


'Til My Heart Stops

by RosebudBasilton



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Eating Disorder, Gen, Grieving, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Introspection, Loneliness, Love, Nostalgia, Past Abuse, Recovery, Relationship Negotiations, Trauma, andrew is ooc dont @ me, author is gonna maybe fuck up but shes also gonna really do her best to Not, breakdowns, i just really fkn love musical analysis, please appreciate kevin he is literally trying his hardest, sort of a songfic? not really, when we eventually get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-03-26 10:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13855800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosebudBasilton/pseuds/RosebudBasilton
Summary: Kevin Day was not invincible. He was more than a face and a voice and a critic. Built on broken foundations like every other Fox, Kevin Day was destined to crack under his own pressure. How far can you push a boundary before it breaks?





	1. In the Hall of the Mountain King

To be fair, Kevin wasn't brought up to praise himself.

There were speculators out there in the Exy World who read the tabloids and autobiographies of  _Kevin Day, Striker, #2_ who shook their fists at Kevin, angry at his image and grandiose on the court. They’d say he carried himself into the game like a god, looking down on any other player as inferior. They mistook his tattoo, a symbol of regaining the throne to his own self, for a declaration of power over the opposition. Merciless. Others only seemed to want to argue that he deserved such a god appointed rank in the game. It was true: he was the best striker out there in College League, next only to Neil and a couple of other players in the Midwest. They never even considered that Kevin was a broken mess, desperately trying to win his life back. He had a reputation for merciless manoeuvres and dominating the court at every given opportunity. A reputation that, to keep the Moriyamas happy, he had to maintain at all costs. Keep doing what he was doing. _Keep pushing that boundary._

But the boundary broke, like he always knew it would.

Agility was the first part of his game that dropped. No one else noticed, but the grind on his knees and ankles as took too much time for him to make a tight turn down by the goal. Restlessness tension made his legs heavy and weak, but no one could hear the way his breathing hitched and stuttered.  _My game is off. My game is dropping. I’ve peaked and I’m tumbling._

The next was his strength. Kevin was already distracted by the prominent dragging feeling he was carrying, but it just about took him to Hell when his throws were getting shorter, weaker,  _Nicky_ was catching them. The first time it happened, Kevin stumbled in his crossing of the court, staring on in horror as that sickly tune of doubt and existentialism sang through his head, the only sound he could hear.

By the time he noticed the struggle in his thighs and lungs he was battling against to keep up with Neil, he was angry. He was angry because he was anxious, but the court was no place for fear. Fear suggested a backwards walk to square one. Anger felt like progression and passion and  _something normal Jesus Christ no one else gets this emotional on the court why can’t this just feel normal again I just want this to feel the way it used to-_

“Day, get your ass in the game!” Wymack had called from the side-lines. The use of Kevin’s surname cut him deeper than he was willing to admit out loud.

“Love you, too,  _dad,_ ” Kevin quipped quietly.

That was the moment that Kevin’s brain planned its own kind of recovery.

More training.  _Obviously._ He’d probably let himself grow too comfortable with Neil at night practices, let himself start slacking. It wasn’t even a question that he’d slipped at the gym. It was only a matter of time before he fixed his routine and made his muscles ache again when he ran.

Kevin was conscious that he’d started sleeping through breakfast. He knew he barely scraped at his dinners anymore (team dinners were always a fraught time). He'd count the calories and weighed up his situation, swore that he'd be alright if he ate just one meal (which he never finished) and had a light snack through the afternoon (that he almost  _always_ missed). No one asked questions when they went to the gym and ceased to see him for a few minutes at a time as he tried to regain his balance in the changing rooms.

Indulgence wasn't what Kevin would call it, skipping lunch and negotiating with dinner. It was a punishment and a guilty pleasure. It was a terrible juxtaposition.

Towards the end of the year was hardest. Everyone wanted to celebrate something. End of finals, Halloween, Guy Fawkes, Thanksgiving, Christmas - all issues that weren’t a problem back when he was only associated with Andrew’s crowd - he could easily just sneak off to the court and drown his sorrows in Exy and vodka, maybe write a letter to Thea that he’d never send. At least one thing improved with time.

He and Thea had worked through everything that happened, agreeing that Thea wasn’t going to forgive him so completely, and Kevin was going to stand by his actions out of pride and stubbornness. It was a strange arrangement, but not one that he hated. They started calling each other, just to talk. Thea would sneak into the dorm at night, or Kevin would sneak out. There were nights when Thea would need Kevin, and vice versa, and they’d heal each other in dark rooms and quiet movies and it was like Kevin was finally  _awake_ \- after all this time.

That one tragic night, Kevin planned to call Thea when the dorm was empty. He didn't go to the Foxes movie night and he didn't go with Aaron to the Vixen party. He didn't leave the lounge, finishing up his final paragraph on his history paper. There was a light feeling in his chest at the thought of seeing Thea after the day of training he’d put himself through. He was halfway through a particularly tricky evaluation of the essay he’d written when someone knocked on the door to the dorm.

If his spinning head wasn't enough from just looking at the door, the real consequence was how he collapsed as soon as he stood.

No one kept health tabs on Kevin. According to everyone, he was the fittest on the whole team, an absolute health freak to keep his body in top condition for Exy. Reminding him to eat healthy was a redundant task. Reminding him to eat, well - no one expected they needed to.

Music and noise was suffocating the hallway of the Exy floor at Fox Tower from behind the walls of a movie night down the corridor. Thea stood outside the Boys’ dorm door with her phone in hand, texting Kevin once, twice, more than should be necessary on a Sunday night. She didn't call to tell him she'd be at his door, she hadn't the time. Between meetings and lectures and tutoring groups and so on, she'd almost forgotten her phone was more than just a clock counting down to her next responsibility. All she was hoping for was some time with Kevin. Relaxation at long last.

But the door stayed still and silent. She couldn't hear anyone on the other side shuffling about. Not even the keys on a laptop tapping at a last-minute essay ( _always_ last minute). Hell, she couldn't hear anything apart from the movie playing across the hallway. Her brain was working at double the speed to fill in any blanks she could find in the situation at hand. The only blank space left at the end of it, was the door, still in front of her, still shut and locked.

She considered interrupting the movie night down the hall, but just the thought of it made her limbs weigh down like lead. Normally, it would be custom for Thea to just swing open any door and get what she needed, no ifs or buts. That day, though, was hell to get through, and she could feel her patience waning under more and more damned silence.

 

_To - josten: is kevin with you?_

 

It was going to be a miracle if he replied, but he was the only contact she had apart from Kevin himself. She’d remained separated from the team for Kevin’s sake, not wanting to stir waters around their temporary separation. The more she waited, the more she was pissed off; at nothing or everything; Neil or Kevin; the universe, because it was broad enough to suffice.

Thea was at her wits end, sitting against the wall in an empty hallway, wishing her boyfriend would appear from anywhere and hold her for a while in a quiet room, with a nearly silent hum of Kevin’s classical music playlist. She would always recall, in the haze of archaic melodies, the conversation that introduced such a note to Kevin’s personality that Thea never knew.

 _“It’s basic, I know,”_ Kevin grinned, turning the music and lowering the volume drastically,  _“but the best songs are actually from the romantic period, not classical. There are some people - snobs, I think - that hate it when people refer to any pre-1900s music as ‘classical’. I don’t know, I just think it’s...not important. Let people enjoy it, y’know? Give them a break. The time doesn’t change how the song sounds.”_

Thea couldn’t say if she agreed or not. She didn’t know enough about music, or history, or the importance of how they intersected. Kevin went on and on about it, though. He switched sides three times and contradicted himself even more than Thea could count. He argued with himself until he was stuck in a corner, still shifting between his two valid points. He slumped into his chair in his chair, Thea sitting on his lap with her head on his shoulder, having listened to every bullet point and every view with genuine interest.

 _“So, what do you think?”_ She’d prompted him, if only to set him off again. What was more telling about Kevin, however, was the answer he did (or didn’t) give.

 _“I guess I don’t know,”_ was all he whispered.  _“...Yet.”_

It was as though the memory had been ripped from her, because in that moment outside her boyfriend’s dorm, she couldn’t hear any of those old melodies in her mind. Instead she heard the light hum of an over-worked brain, white noise to anyone else. Worrying wasn't a common experience for Thea, so when it arose she pushed it down, so far that she couldn't hear the intrusive thoughts that wanted to whisper terrible wonders to her. She knew she'd grasp onto them too tightly and spiral into a meltdown too quickly to escape.

The quiet, silly music from a game she installed on her phone grounded Thea for long enough, but she couldn't miss the way her heart was pounding and her head was growing fuzzy. She played with the pastel blue ends of her long braids and counted to 100 hundred and back. Nothing happened.

It was getting harder to focus and difficult to breathe when the sound of the film in the other room cut out. There were exclamations and laughter to replace it, but the sudden shift still put Thea at further unease. She forced herself to stand when she heard them walking to the door. Her hands wouldn't still, so she shoved them in her (Kevin's) jacket pockets and slapped on a smile as deceivingly fake as she could, just as Nicky walked out.

"Thea!" He smiled. "My favourite non-Fox! Why're you outside? Is Kev being a dick?"

Andrew and Neil hadn't turned up yet, and judging by the way Nicky was referring to Kevin, she faltered in her suppression of concern.

"He- he isn't answering the door," she explained, working far too hard to keep her voice steady. "Or my texts, or anything."

Nicky seemed to stop feeling so elated and dug out a key from his jeans. "We left him in here because he needed to do some work, he probably just fell asleep."

 _Obviously,_ Thea scolded herself.  _What are you, a coward? Scared of abandonment?_

She preferred it when she was worrying for good reason.

She did not prefer seeing Nicky's face pale and watching him run over to Kevin's body, collapsed in a heap just a little way out from the door.

Thea didn't choose to cry, but after the day she'd had and the anxiety she’d been sitting through for the past however long, she couldn't help herself. There was glass of water spilt under his legs and something else wet that confirmed he'd fainted and been out for too long.

"Kevin!" She wept, wiping his hair back from his eyes. They didn't open. "Kevin, what happened?! Wake up!  _Wake up!_ "

Nicky left the room in haste and cried the news to the rest of the team, sending Andrew and Neil storming in. Thea didn't know what to do, if anything. Call an ambulance? Wymack? Wait for someone else to take control? Nothing made sense. She couldn't think at all.

"Thea, look at me."

Andrew was kneeling in front of her with a hand hovering over her shoulder in waiting. There was no catalogued response for that, so Thea just stared at it. Andrew retracted.

"Call an ambulance," he instructed. "Or give your phone to Nicky. Snap out of it. You're better than this."

It stung in a pleasing kind of way, hearing Andrew Minyard almost compliment her. Thea dialled 911 and handed the phone off to someone else. Andrew telling her to get back to reality was nothing she wasn't already thinking, but it certainly put them back at their equilibrium when she hardened her face and forced herself to focus.

"There's no blood or sign of major trauma," she assessed, with amateur knowledge and a lot of observation, "but he hasn't just fallen asleep else he'd be awake."

"Deep sleep?" Someone suggested beside her.

"Kevin doesn't know how to 'deep sleep'. He gets woken up by his own snoring."

Andrew snorted a little at that and checked Kevin's pulse on his wrist and throat. There was no sign of irregularity.

"Ambulance is on its way," Nicky announced. "Did anyone see him eat today?"

And Thea thought she might understand.

 

×××

 

Waking up wasn't hard for Kevin Day. It was a victory every morning, another day alive, where he could prepare for the season, the next game, the next trial in his life. He loved waking up, despite the groggy attitude and bleary glares he’d give people as he passed them, because at least he was there to do it himself.

It was everything afterwards that made his life hell. On this day, this was not helped by realising he was no longer in the dorm.

He didn't startle, but he gasped and reached for something to give him his bearings; a phone, or a note, anything. Unfortunately, that something ended up being the hand of Andrew Minyard.

"Crap," Kevin breathed, retracting immediately and trying to sit up. Andrew was rigid, staring straight ahead at Kevin’s bed. " _Shit,_ I'm sorry. Where- what,  _what?!_ "

It took Andrew the same amount of time to register that he'd been grabbed by a previously unconscious Kevin Day that it took Kevin to see that he had woken up in hospital and was attached to far too many tubes, and proceed to go through almost every possible reason there be for his being there, paired with a way that it could end his Exy career. The heart monitor was suddenly under-qualified.

"Kevin, calm down," Andrew ordered. "Kevin Day, I swear to god I will stop your heart if you can't keep it under control."

That didn't help. No wonder. Kevin did try to appreciate that Andrew was attempting to help him, though.

"Why am I here?" Kevin demanded. "What happened?"

"You could tell me better than I could tell you," Andrew responded, placid. Kevin knew better than to trust a face like that with a statement so accusatory. He noted the way Andrew tapped his fingers against the hospital crib barrier; slowly, like he was waiting for the right moment to strike. The sound was metallic and dull under the pad of his index and middle finger, alternating with respective pitches. Kevin recalled this as the way Riko bided time as he pretended to decide what abuse he'd inflict upon Kevin and Jean. The sound made him shudder.

"Do you know how rattled I have to be," Andrew pressed, "before I actually start giving a shit about your life and personal actions?"

Kevin looked away in shame and hoped that it was answer enough.  _Oh._

"So, you understand now, why you're sitting in a hospital bed instead of your own?" Andrew went on, his tapping increasing in tempo. Kevin felt this mirrored in his heart, a cruel parallel to the thrill he felt when listening to such a convention in pieces such as  _Hall of the Mountain King_ (a classic - how could Kevin not invest himself in it?). This, Andrew’s bedside conducting, removed the escapism and forced Kevin to realise just how much trouble he was in. "I made a promise to protect you from anyone trying to harm you. You seem to be the only person at fault here, so what do I do, Kevin? Tell me."

With the way that Andrew was biting at him, Kevin felt as though the anger in the room was misdirected. Andrew might have been upset with Kevin, but he seemed more infuriated with himself.

"I don't know," Kevin responded, feeling too tired and confused to fear Andrew. "Whatever you want. Can you call Thea?"

Andrew's phone was taken out and handed to Kevin, but Andrew made a point of turning it off first. "You and I are speaking, Day. I want answers."

"And I want to tell Thea where I am and that I'm okay. Fuck you."

"She's outside. She was sitting in front of our dorm halfway to a panic coma because you weren't answering the door, your phone -anything. She knows you're here and she knows you're not okay, so you are going to lie down and give me some kind of explanation-"

"What do you  _want_ me to say, Andrew?!" Kevin yelled. "That I did this to spite you? To piss you off? You think I liked feeling worthless and out of control-  _no,_ god damn it, I don't think you've thought about this at all. Look at yourself, you wear your armbands every day because you know you lost control and it was the only way back. You think I blame  _you_ for that?"

Andrew stood slowly as Kevin finished speaking, began pacing around Kevin's bed with measured steps, and removed his armbands. Of course, he threw them at Kevin's chest, but that was almost expected.

"Show me how you lost control," Andrew challenged. Kevin gazed long and regretfully at the white scar tissue on Andrew's bear arms. He saw how some of them were so old and still wouldn't heal. Moreover, he saw two long red cuts that only looked days or hours old, right near the top of his forearm in a concentration of bad memories.

"You're looking at it," Kevin told him miserably. "Aren't you? I had to be the best, it was the only part of the Ravens I was given that I wanted to keep. Best striker, best player, going places. I thought I had it under control. I know I was pushing the boundary. I always am. That's how you become the best."

Andrew gave Kevin a long glare, calculating what he'd said. "You didn't see yourself getting worse?"

Of course, he did. He realised he was getting tired too quickly, light-headed and queasy. He saw his muscle mass drop and knew he was getting less sleep. Kevin saw it all. Starving himself wasn't just for coping, it was to fix himself.

"Sort of. It's complicated," he replied. His eyes were still fixed on those 2 scarred lines. "How long was I out?"

Andrew heard exactly what Kevin was implying. The armbands were snatched up and replaced on his arms, no waver in his bored expression - if you could call it expression.

"I'm getting Thea. If you breathe a word of this to  _anyone_ I'll-"

He stopped. The fire in his eyes burned fervently, but there was no bite left in him. Andrew didn't even bother to finish his threat. He simply left.

 

×××

 

Thea swore the hospital made Kevin look worse than he really was. When she'd seen him before, it wasn't like this. Gaunt face and sharp edges, the model of a man who was breaking, breaking, broken. She mentally cussed the white lights for making shadows and washing him out. She hated the way the gown hung off his shoulders so carelessly. She especially hated that guilty look all over his face.

"Stop that," she told him, a thin dam for tears shaking in her words. Having spent hours in a waiting room, stoically staring at the floor as other Foxes milled about and worried what was happening,  _actually seeing_ Kevin - someone she could finally let her guard down with - was a painful relief at long, reluctant last.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't you _dare!_ " She sobbed, walking briskly to him and holding him close to her, closer. His frail hold was as tight around Thea’s body as he could manage, barely warming, nothing like it used to be. Though still, he was there,  _he'd be okay._ "Don't be sorry. Just tell me you're okay."

But Kevin didn't answer quick enough. In fact, it sounded like he wasn't about to answer at all. He breathed evenly, as though he’d not heard Thea’s desperate request. She knew he had by the way his hand turned to fists, gripping the back of her hoodie.  Thea held on tighter.

A moment too many passed. "Kev?"

"I don't know, Thea,” he exhaled, not unkindly, but with a muted sob wavering through his voice. “I know did something destructive, but I don't know if I truly believe that it was  _all bad._ "

As hard as it was to hear Kevin admit to his Stockholm Syndrome for destructive habits, Thea understood. Truly. The thin line between improvement and self-destruction was a fickle thing to mind, and she’d known a younger much Kevin who mistook unjust punishment for necessary discipline. In other words, Thea felt she should have seen this inevitable breakdown coming.

She wanted so badly to just tell him to stop speaking like that, be a bit more positive, she couldn't  _handle_ any more bad news - but she wanted to be there for him. Telling him to ignore what he was feeling - well, who does that help?

"You can't-" She didn’t mean to weep. Kevin's arms adjusted to engulf her properly as she composed herself. Breathing in deep the smell of stiff, sterile hospital air, Thea went on. "You have to stop, Kevin. You have to understand that this is killing you."

He kissed her neck once and pressed his face into the soft fabric of his old PSU sweater she had taken.  _This,_ Thea thought,  _is exactly what I wanted. I just didn't want to have it on a hospital bed._

He was swaying Thea back and forth. The familiar repetition didn’t take long to remind her of a safer memory of Kevin’s giggling grin and listening to his meticulously organised playlists to fall back on, but she was finding it hard to stop noticing the way his arms hung around her body - scrawny, lanky. They were so much thinner than she had thought. How did Thea not realise something was wrong?

Probably, she hadn’t noticed due to the lack of time they  _actually_ spent together. Sure, they had their rendezvous and weekend dates, occasionally dropping by one another’s door to retrieve belongings left there by ignorance in a hasty morning getaway (AKA- Kevin, constantly leaving his books at Thea’s because he left too quickly for morning practice), but most of the time, they were on the phone. Texting, calling, video-chatting - with both of their schedule getting more frantic, they had barely seen each other face-to-face in weeks.

Her hands found their way through his hair, which was growing long enough to sweep into a fringe (she'd teased him _a lot_ about that in their video-calls), and kissed his forehead.

"I love you," he whispered. "This is going to get better, I promise."

"I know it will. I know you."

"I didn't mean to-"

"I know."

 

×××

 

Kevin no longer lived at Fox Tower. After a sullen and effortless argument with Wymack, Kevin conceded and agreed to live with his coach -  _father_ \- until he was far enough into his recovery. Kevin didn't have to ask whether he'd be benched or not, nor did he want to. With the way Wymack was glaring out the windscreen as they drove, it seemed like a redundant idea.

It wasn't a happy occasion, being allowed solace in his father's home. Even if it was a kind enough gesture, it was pity. A part of him wished this had happened in a time when Wymack was still unaware of his relation to Kevin - at least then it wouldn’t feel as though Kevin had disappointed his only living parent.

(He didn’t truly believe that this would be the case, but the thought was comforting.)

If he squinted, Kevin could convince himself that they were almost like the family they should have been. He could imagine that the situation was better; coming back from practice, or coping from a tough game. Anything to reinvent the tension in the air to something less accusatory. Back in reality though, Kevin pulled his knee up to his tight chest and rested his cheek on top to stare out the window, concluding that any chance of this being a ‘family bonding experience’ was ridiculous.

"How didn't you know?" Wymack asked quietly. The words didn't quite land on Kevin. They were up in the air, begging for an answer, but Kevin wasn’t planning on giving in. "I mean, you're an athlete, Kev. Something must have seemed off-"

"I did know," Kevin answered lightly, making no eye contact. In truth, he wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. "I'm sorry."

As his final word met the follow-through exhale, Kevin felt his chest lighten, ever slightly. No one had let him apologise before that. He'd start, but they'd stop him, as though they were saving him from something (or, more likely, saving themselves). No one considered - and to be fair, why should they? - that it wasn't for the sake of gaining their forgiveness. All he was trying to say was that he knew the impact of what he’d been through, how fucked it all was. He knew what it was like to see someone deteriorate under a too-good-to-be-true image of themselves. He never meant to put anyone through that.

Besides. Part of him was apologising to himself.

Wymack pulled into the driveway smoothly and parked, but made no move to leave the car.

"Kid, let me get one thing through your head," he began. Despite his words, the tone was soft, softer than Kevin had ever imagined Wymack could be. "I don't resent you for this, and I don't want you to any harbour guilt. None. If anything, that’s just going to fuck with your head and make this all worse. I’m not usually one for admitting this, but it breaks my heart just a bit to see my players, my  _best_ player..." He paused, swallowing thickly, "my  _son_...being run to the ground like it's his responsibility to die on that court. I can’t see you do that to yourself, it’s not fair on you. The only responsibility you have right now is getting better."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Thanks, Dad," Kevin whispered, quietly hoping Wymack didn't hear.

 

(He did.)

 

Kevin’s room was just the guest room Wymack lent to him around last Christmas time. Beige walls and white furniture, no personality, cut straight out from a home decor magazine. Kevin considered sticking up some photos or post it notes of revision, but he’d never felt compelled to before, even in his dorms. The thought began to sit uncomfortably with him.

"About as bland as your personality," Andrew remarked from the doorway, leaning on the frame.

Kevin hummed in a dismissive agreement, sitting on his bed. He had no will to fight with Andrew. Not that day.

"How's your anxiety going to hold up with this isolation?” Andrew pondered aloud, traipsing over to the blank desk and running his fingers over the white enamel surface. “No Siamese twin to drag you through the halls. Then again, there's at least one room in the house I'll never find you."

That stung. Kevin hoped Andrew enjoyed the wince he made, because Kevin never seemed to learn that Andrew’s need for chaos and malice couldn’t be sufficed by his victim’s pain. "Shut up, Andrew,” Kevin demanded softly. “Seriously. One day where I don't have to listen to you."

Neil appeared just behind Andrew, having probably reached his limit of ‘Time Without Boyfriend’. Kevin had to bite his tongue from regarding Andrew's 'Siamese twin' comment. "What do you want?" He spat instead.

Andrew could never be described as a person who softened, but the glare from his hard stare all but melted for the moments he spent trying to choose his next approach. Kevin had been observing Andrew for a long time, and the only thing he could clearly say about the blond was that every attack he made, every step he took,  _everything_ Andrew did was calculated. It had to be. Ridicule wasn’t an option for Andrew. A wrong move was never met with forgiveness. And yet here was Andrew, having not even rehearsed his speech, hesitating in a way that Kevin might have mistook for vulnerability if he didn’t know better.

"You won't be at practice anymore," Andrew noted.

"Shut  _up-_ "

"I'll come by after and rub it in,” Andrew added. Both Neil and Kevin noticed the fond tone that almost betrayed defeat in Andrew’s quiet comment. With both pairs of eyes on him, his own unable to look at Kevin, Andrew left the room, grabbing for both his cigarettes and Neil’s hand. "Don't get too comfortable."

Hard to translate, maybe, but Kevin could hear the subtext of it. Andrew was always making sure his side of the Foxes -  _the Monsters,_ as it’s so eloquently put by the Upperclassmen - stayed afloat and intact. Despite Kevin's absence, Andrew was going to keep the striker bound to the team. Whatever measures it took.

The emptiness of the room hit him all too suddenly. Kevin expected himself to react in a frigid anxiety haze, realising how alone he really was. However, he merely squinted. He felt vaguely warm looking at the blank walls in his room.  _Alone,_ he thought to himself.  _Completely._ Absently, he reached over to his wallet and filed through old receipts to a crinkled and ailing photo he kept of he and Thea. Smiling and holding their drinks, teeth and dimples and all. Kevin couldn’t remember the context, but he knew that it was a time when the stress and tragedy had alleviated from them both, for at least one night. Sourcing out some blue-tack from the office draw nearby, he tacked the photo to the wall beside his bed.

"Okay," he sighed. "Yeah, okay."

 


	2. Reverie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how much music theory is too much music theory for a story that isnt about fkn music.   
> also the symptoms/feelings kevin is going through is based on the research i did as well as the experiences (all of which were minor in relativity) i have had personally with eating disorders/starvation.   
> also this begins the formation of the 'we hate melon' club - HELL FRUIT.

Falling asleep wasn't the original plan, but Kevin suffered through woozy, drugged up dreams anyway. He had anticipated the inertia he was about to be put through, but it was nothing compared to the real deal. These dreams were spinning and sickly, just colours and sounds and broken words. It was an acid trip in an amusement park; nothing meant anything, but everything meant something. Even unconscious, the overload of languid nonsense made him queasy. As he woke up, he could have sworn he’d been suspended in mid-air and fallen back onto his bed – he cursed any future IV drips, just in case.

Tired, bleary eyes saw the tacked up photo first. It struck a quiet jolt of shock through him. Having accustomed himself to a life of to leaving sentimental personal belongings in dark corners and behind the walls of his wardrobe, it felt like Kevin was waking up in someone else’s life. Especially seeing his own smile, white lines of worn paper creases doing nothing to damage the sight of a grin that took up his entire face. There was a strong disturbance in seeing  _ himself _ , and not  _ Kevin Day, #2, Fox. _ Somehow, he vouched, he would come to accept his image as more than just an asset. For that morning, however, there was nothing more terrifying than seeing himself recorded as being  _ merely human. _

That fear wasn’t nearly as shocking as seeing someone sitting at the end of his bed, though.

"It's me," Thea recovered as Kevin jumped. "Sorry, I- I just wanted to see you. I can go."

The scene registered. A quiet calm passed over his heart. "Stay," Kevin replied. "Stay, it’s okay."

The two of them shared a nervous smile. To be fair, they hadn’t worked out how to steer their relationship around a health scare and a distinct loss of hope. Between Kevin collapsing and coming home from the hospital, they hadn’t had time to really sit down and  _ discuss _ . It was quickly approaching, that daunting conversation, where Kevin knew he’d have to lay his heart out and let people pick at it until they understood just what had happened. Kevin’s heart was following the rhythm of one of his favourite Debussy compositions, one that he couldn’t help but associate with Thea.  _ Rêverie _ , it was called. The swooping melodies and soft harmonies that grew and shaped the piece into it’s more fantastic moments of clashing discomfort. Kevin felt he was somersaulting through the stave’s bars and hanging from the crunching accidentals that littered the music. In that moment, he was as suspended as the minor chords he was following, waiting for Thea to say something, anything,  _ resolve to home _ .

Sensing that worry, Thea lay beside him and tentatively shuffled closer to his chest, as though she too could hear his heart’s piano desperately trying to keep tempo. Tentatively was a word that best described anything in their relationship, the aftermath of a shake so powerful that the only thing left was the foundation they built on – barely. Kevin pulled her in, wishing she would understand how much he wanted her near, close,  _ closer. _ Feeling the way she relaxed against him was a feeling Kevin didn't know how to feel about: on one hand, of course it was a relief to feel her again, and he was somewhat honoured that she felt safe with him. On the other hand, though, to think that she was so worried and tense didn't feel right to revel in. He could only cuddle her closer.

"That's us," she smiled, looking up at the photo on his wall. She rolled down one of the curling corners with the tip of her finger. "You're so cute."

Kevin grunted. "I'm a goddamn nightmare."

Thea leaned upwards, kissing his lips. "Eh. Sure."

It was silent, then. For a few minutes, the world left them alone and let them have a moment of peace, a moment of each other. Kevin knew how to deal with this kind of quiet. The kind of quiet that demanded nothing and accepted kind thoughts of whispered gratitudes; one that asked  _ How are you? _ And answered  _ Good, now that you’re here. _

"I think we're avoiding something," Kevin commented,.

Thea kissed his neck gently. She didn’t immediately answer, but the silence was message enough."I'm worried about you, Kevin, but I know you'll be okay." She kissed him again. "I know you're strong enough."

But for all the distracting that Thea could do, she couldn’t contain the bubble of anxiety and shame that burst in Kevin’s chest. It took him off-guard when it burst, like the key changes and crescendos that he had peacefully soared against just moments ago. "I want to get better. I do. I didn't mean for it to get so bad, I thought I was making myself better-"

"Babe, calm down," Thea whispered.

Huffing shakily, Kevin leaned forward, quietly admitting: "I didn't mean to scare you."

Thea opened her eyes, then. Stared at Kevin's with sleepy, half-lidded adoration. "It's okay, it's not your fault. Nobody's accusing you of being selfish. You weren't trying to hurt anyone."

Recalling the earlier conversation with Andrew was a harsh interruption to any daydream of serenity that Thea had built around them. Kevin hated himself for the two or so tears that slipped down his cheek and nose. "Sure."

"No, don't beat yourself up," Thea murmured. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Kevin squeezed his eyes shut, wiped away whatever tears he had on his face. He wanted to, of course. It was hard enough trying to face it alone, and telling Thea might just ease that tension that hung around his neck so precariously. But it was those same words that choked him, burnt his throat like a brand. She didn’t know about the Moriyama deal, how this sort of problem would end in death one way or another. They’d only just hauled themselves over one hurdle - again, Kevin’s fault. They surely wouldn’t make it through another.

Kevin didn’t let himself focus on anything but Thea’s lips ghosting his chest, her soft, warm breath. "Can we just lay here a while?" He asked, knowing that any day could be the last one they spent together.

Thea sighed, blissfully unaware. "God, yes."

  
  


×××

  
  


It was about 2am when Kevin woke up with an unfamiliar hunger settled in his tummy and a dull thud pounding behind his eyes. After weeks of forgetting what it felt like to feel that kind of reminder so loudly, the sensation was sickly, which presented him with the redundant paradox of feeling too disgusting to eat.

The way Kevin saw it, he had limited options. 1) Ignore it and hope that breakfast isn't such a trivial time, 2) wake up Thea and try to admit to what felt like such an illicit feeling.

Which is how he found himself standing in the middle of the Foxhole Court, racquet in hand, having still not eaten anything.

He knew he was digging his heart a grave, but seeing the court so empty gave him a overwhelming sense of home. The kind of home that you have to say goodbye to.

_ A nest _ , Riko’s bitter snarl whispered in his ear. 

“Hope you aren’t planning on taking any shots.”

Wymack stepped into the space that had bound the two of them to one another, the safe space he created for broken souls to become Foxes, become something worth giving a damn about. He might not have raised Kevin, but he built him up on this court to become not only a better player, but a better person. “I am not above wrestling you off this court, Kevin,” Wymack warned, mostly serious.

Kevin didn’t respond. A cynical, self-deprecating part of him wanted to point out that Wymack could probably snap him in half with a hug too tight. His mood had taken a turn as soon as he’d woken up, now he was in a trough of inescapable melancholy.

Wymack sighed. “You’re not okay.”

“I’m trying to be,” Kevin offered lightly.

“Do me a favour, Kev - stop.” The two shared a significant look. “Let yourself not be okay. You’ve been through a second - or third, or something - wind of trauma, and you need to give yourself time to process that.”

Kevin listened. He wasn’t able to find a relevant response, but he listened and he took the advice, and then, “Do you think my career is over?”

Wymack didn’t respond. It was answer enough for Kevin. He knew Wymack was too honest for a situation as precarious as this. The two of them sighed - Kevin, because he feared that the sunrise would bare light on his newly fucked up career, which would no doubt reach the Moriyamas and sign off his death warrant; Wymack, because he was coming to realise how deep this ran for Kevin’s life. 

It was Wymack who sat on the court first, tugging on Kevin’s wrist. It took all of Kevin’s will power and core-strength to not just let himself collapse on the ground.

“You should have let me die on the floor,” Kevin wept. “Either way, I’m not making it to Christmas.”

“Shut up,” Wymack snapped. “Don’t say that. You’re not going to die.”

“The Moriyamas-”

“Are going to stick their blood deal up their asses and back off.”

Shaking his head, Kevin found himself closer to Wymack, able to lean his head on his father’s shoulder. It wasn’t often that Kevin would even entertain the idea of physical affection - affection at  _ all  _ \- with Wymack, but as far as either of the men were concerned, this called for an exception. Kevin, allowing himself to be held, took a moment to remember all of the times in his childhood where he needed Wymack there, for this very task. Getting hurt running around with the older players, being told that he wasn’t allowed to play on the ‘big kids’ court, the day his mother died… If he thought about it hard enough, he could picture his own small frame sobbing in his father’s embrace, what Wymack would say that would calm Kevin down.

“Don’t you worry, Kevin,” Wymack whispered softly. “I’ll be dead before I let anyone hurt you.”

 

×××

 

The next night was just as difficult. He’d spent all day catching up on his notes for History and trying not to watch Exy, lest he mourn it too much. He was restless and hollowed out, the melancholy in his heart suffocating him. It drowned his lungs, the soft melodies of his  _ Reverie _ warped and augmented, almost indiscernible. His hands itched for a racquet, a drink, a workout. They found Thea’s hands instead, and the discomfort subsided for a moment.

He lay in the dark and juggled the possibilities, working himself up until he softly removed himself from Thea and slipped out to the lounge. There was a soft amber light coming through the uncurtained window, but it was too early for even a peek of the sun. It was strangely familiar to him, as though these early morning wanders around the house had always held a hand out to him, embraced him with the cool arms of a starved sky. In truth, Kevin didn't much like the dark usually, but now its secrets and hiding places seemed to calm him with false security.

He saw the empty whiskey bottle before he could reach the kitchen. Tempting. Kevin knew where the alcohol was and he knew how badly he wanted to forget this feeling, but it wasn't a sight he wanted anyone to see.

There was a note on the bench next to a store-bought fruit salad.

  
  


_ Kev - _

_ Got you this. Just in case you needed something. _

  
  


Kevin eyed the cut pieces of apple and mango, feeling uneasy against his better judgement. Still, he snatched it up and took it back to his room. Thea was still asleep, curled in on the blankets that Kevin had left behind. It pulled a small smile across his lips as he sat at the desk across the room.

Thea stirred, probably hearing the crack of plastic from Kevin's salad as he opened it. He ate a single piece of pineapple before she turned around and saw him.

"There aren't a lot of things more disconcerting than my boyfriend watching me sleep," she mentions. "But the fact that you're sitting in the dark eating a fruit salad is definitely pushing it."

Kevin laughed and stuck a piece of mango in his mouth, placing it very deliberately beside his tongue, before leaving the container on the desk and walking over to his bed. Thea put a hand on his chest and pushed him away before he could lay down.

"Bring it here," she instructs softly.

And when her voice sounds so deep and sleep ridden like that, well...Kevin had a hard time saying no.

They huddled up in the blankets and leaned on one another, Kevin picking up the fruit in the container and Thea tracing circles on his shoulder. Slowly, the world felt a little less woozy. The rhythms were settled back on the beat.

"Why don't you eat the blueberries?" She asked.

"Don't like blueberries," he replies. "Or melon, actually. It's gross."

"Uh, you're gross," Thea clapped back, picking up a blueberry. "Can't believe I'm dating a tasteless heathen."

Kevin couldn't quite believe he was dating someone so comfortable to be around. He kissed her cheek, then. Smiled against his anxiety. Ate a couple more pieces of fruit and tried to leave the container almost as full as he’d found it.

But then Thea said exactly what everyone had been thinking: "I don't know how hard to push you."

Kevin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when you stop eating after five or six cubes of fruit, am I supposed to suggest you eat more? Or is it not like that? I don't know how to help you, I guess." She grimaced. "Okay, sorry. That felt... egocentric."

Kevin shrugged. "Don't worry about your ego right now. I think... I don't know. Part of me wants permission, some kind of ‘ _ it's okay to not starve’ _ . The other part of me wants to just stop. So, I don't know either."

"Maybe it’s not a problem that can be fixed at 2am?"

"Good observation." He reluctantly pushed one more apple piece in his mouth. "This isn't going to be easy."

"No. You'll do great, though. You're Kevin Day."

But Kevin didn't really know what that meant anymore.

  
  


×××

  
  


Kevin woke up at the time of his usual alarm, despite said alarm not going off.  He was about to get up when he remembered there'd be no practice for him today. Of course, he could go in and oversee his team, but there was a bitter taste in his mouth at the thought of that. He cuddled into Thea's shoulder and went back to sleep.

The next time he woke, it was because Andrew had thrown four shoes and a book at him. At once.

"Practice was great and you missed all of it," he announced in perfect monotone.

"Can't tell if you're lying or if you're just a dick," Kevin responded. He noted that Thea had left for work, and therefore had no idea what to do with himself. "Where's Josten?"

"Class, the nerd. Why aren't you awake?"

"What's the point?"

"Ah. He's become a human. Congratulations you conglomerate of anxiety - you're finally relatable."

Andrew picked up the discarded fruit salad box and raised his eyebrows. Kevin barely looked at him. "It's only melon left. Thea doesn't like that Hell Fruit either."

Even Andrew made a face and threw it into the bin. He traipsed around the room some more, taking note of the blank surfaces, before sitting on Kevin's bed and glancing at the photo on the wall.

"Never took you for a sentimental type," he commented, rolling back a corner that hadn't quite stuck down. "Oh my. A photo of Kevin Day smiling. Jesus may as well come down and punch me in the face."

"You know, I wish he would."

"Jesus and I go way back, I think. Past life. I was John."

"Which one?"

"The gay one that dated Jesus."

"Huh."

Kevin hoped that conversation was over and tried to sleep again, but Andrew leaned over and poked his cheek a couple of times. Despite being tired and sick of Andrew's strangely content meddling, Kevin was slightly relieved that he didn't seem to be spending the whole day sleeping.

"You should get up," Andrew suggested.

Seeing as Kevin never had a timely 'teen angst' phase, he felt it was appropriate to cash in. "What's the point?"

"Well, Emo McEdgelord - you do have classes. Plus, I organised for you to meet Bee for coffee, seeing as your dumb ass was probably going to do anything but that."

Kevin was staring at Andrew softly, not in the usual fervent glare he'd adopted over time. "You care in weird ways, Andrew."

"I don't care."

"Liar. Why else would you do that?"

Kevin expected Andrew to get pissed off and walk away, like he does when things go awry for him, but Andrew stays.

Quietly, giving Kevin a bored (but, fond) glance, he says: "I don't want to see you on a stretcher again. Now get up."

  
  


×××

  
  


Classes were skipped for Kevin. Wymack had made a case about recovering from hospital, even though Kevin retained that he could have gone in.

Bee arrived around 1pm, giving Kevin a sorry hug and quiet chat about anything other than the elephant in the room. The weather, the house, Thea. There was an endless list of conversation topics that weren’t eating disorder. Bee seemed to know every single one of them.

The longer they didn’t talk about it, the more anxious Kevin grew. It was only a matter of time before he had to confront this all head-on, admit to his misfortune and accept fate as a headhunt for the Moriyamas. In fact, the more time passed, the less Kevin was certain he’d live to recover.

"So, Kevin," Bee began, leaning forward, the way she did whenever she wanted to talk about something difficult. "This weekend was a bit of a shock."

Kevin nodded. "For everyone," he replied.

Bee frowned like a therapist. Cocked her head to the side, made an effort to overstate that  _ she's listening, yes, and how does that make you feel?  _ Kevin didn't like it. He already trusted that she gave a fuck, the show was just a bit patronising. "What do you mean by that?"

"I didn't know I was heading for a hospital," Kevin answered honestly, laughing through his words despite the air of the room. "I thought I was okay. Didn't know I was destroying myself, that's for sure."

"You thought your eating habits were normal?"

Kevin had to think. No, not normal. Just. Working. They were working for him. He thought he was helping himself, but-

"No," is all he said. "I just didn't think it was dangerous."

Bee made some kind of sound of realisation, clearly a trick to bring back the light mood and stay afloat rather than letting Kevin get pulled under all of this crap. "That makes sense."

"It does?"

"Yes. To put it simply, somewhere in your brain there's a faulty thought pathway that says 'here's a problem - it'll get worse if you eat'. And, well, we know that that's not true at all. So maybe, in order to relearn how we deal with these problems that are arising, we need to figure out what causes started it in the first place."

Kevin considered this, lips resting on his warming coffee mug.

"I think I have an idea."


	3. Alle De Voksende Skygger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick word about something I tried to touch on in this chapter:  
> Given my tendency to work on the logic 'If someone is looking for attention, it's because something is wrong and they need attention', the way Kevin's eating disorder is explained might sound like 'oh he was just doing it because he wanted attention'. This, technically, is true - but it's not meant to be negative. It isn't supposed to make Kevin - or any real-life persons - look petulant in having an eating/mental disorder. It's completely subconscious, the way this happens - it wasn't a choice of Kevin's. It's complicated to explain and if I haven't done this effectively PLEASE let me know! I understand that it's a sensitive subject and the last thing I want to do is misrepresent a serious issue.

It was this.  _ Kevin Day, 13 years old _ was not a commonly used Google search. There had been fanatics - namely, Neil Josten - who scoured the internet and crawled through a ridiculous amount of bullshit articles and fake social media accounts in order to make a full, detailed timeline of Kevin’s media-star life, but there are a few years from the Nest that had mysteriously gone missing, like they had been created and lost in the Bermuda Triangle. All that could be found were grainy photos of Raven’s trainings taken from afar, or team dinners and professional photos with significant lack of Kevin Day’s sharp features, enviable physique, and intimidation tactic glare. He seemed to have ceased from existing in those few teen years. However, if you separated these photos from the Kevin Day being broadcasted on screens and in magazines - the airbrushed, athletic poster boy that is so far from true - you could probably isolate the green eyes and messy dark hair, the tiny number 2 drawn in Sharpie on his cheekbone, pushed to the back and mostly hidden in every image. Everything else, though, is unidentifiable.

There's an awkward time in a lot of people's lives where puberty screws you over and stops processing food to make energy the way it always has (metabolism, if you will). That's what happened to Kevin. He was by no means unfit. He wasn’t even really out of the realms of being considered ‘average’ sized. All that had happened, was he’d gained some weight in his teen years, and there was a certain someone (note: some _ one _ ) who didn't approve of this new image. 

Kevin was happy to not give a shit about the way he looked and how the public critiqued him. He was thirteen, god damn it, he had better things to worry about. Then again, living with a psychotic freak as your brother can really fuck that up for you.

Let's just say, no: you can't bleed out fat. Kevin had the scars to prove it.

As a child - barely a teenager - he was starved, beaten, reprimanded by just one person, although he felt like the whole world was crushing him. It wasn't like he was sitting quietly in complacency and letting all of this be inflicted on himself. Kevin  _ knew  _ he didn’t deserve it. The two brothers fought over the matter of image and reputation, drawing knives and blood, handing out low blows and targeted jabs. He tried to ward Riko off and prove that he was still fast enough and strong enough to be on the court. He was every inch the athlete that he had always been.

It wasn't enough.

Eventually, with Jean risking skin and bone to help Kevin stay conscious through the days of dizzy torture and harsh blood loss and Thea talking him back to sanity, he was starting to feel the pains in his legs and back disappear. A few weeks later, he went from 5'3" to 5'8", and steadily grew taller until he hit 6'2" and stood over tiny Riko with hunched shoulders. If he thought he'd be left alone, it was a joke. His ankles were taking the brunt of a different story.

Present day, Kevin closed the Google Images tab and looked to Bee. She was smiling the same way Abby looked at Kevin when he'd pout at Wymacks fatherly moments. Her hand was warm on his wrist. Both of them knew that this wasn’t a definitive answer all on it’s own. They knew that there was always more, a broader reason for self-destruction like this. This, though, was at least a starting point.

"You were a very cute child," she commented. Kevin blushed before he could stop himself.

"What's this?" Andrew questioned, walking into the room and taking a seat. "Kevin isn't cute. Impossible. Never."

Bee looked on at Andrew with another one of her motherly smiles. "You can see for yourself, if you like."

That wasn't a good idea. Kevin tried to interject, but Andrew was too quick to move his phone out of Kevin's line of impact, and feigned shock when he saw the search results.

"Kevin Day, you were a normal-sized human once?" He teased. Kevin tried again to grab the phone. "You look so cuddly, look at you."

"Stop," Kevin sighed.

"I'm not even being mean, what's your problem?"

"Andrew, you know you're being a dick, just drop it."

"I know no such thing-  _ look at this _ , little 7-year-old Kevin."

Ah, yes. Before Kevin had learnt to not actually smile for cameras. Looking quite excited to be a future Raven, teeth missing in his open smile, he was blissfully unaware of Riko's side-eye glare at him. Kevin recalled how he was punished for stints like that, but looking at the glint in his younger eyes, he preferred to try and forget it.

"You were so happy," Andrew whispered, almost like he just realised how far Kevin had fallen under the guise of the Ravens. He locked his phone and turned back to Bee. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Bee gave a patient and caring smile. "Andrew," she intercepted. "Patient confidentiality."

"No, it's okay," Kevin conceded contently, giving Andrew a intently irritating smile. "He'll find out in few hours anyway."

 

×××

 

Thea walked in at 4:30pm, slowly, trying not to startle Kevin. She knew, logically, that he would be okay with Thea coming to see him after classes. She also knew that this was borderlining on new territory for them.

Ever since she’d found Kevin lying on the carpet in a disturbing heap of limbs and spilt water, Thea hasn’t been able to shake the music of that night. One song from Kevin’s playlist that he’d excitedly told her about as he’d added it in. 

_ “It’s in Danish,” _ he’d explained,  _ “and it took me a long-ass time to find a proper translation of it.” _

_ “What’s it called?” _ Thea had giggled, wondering if Kevin had noticed that he’d been ranting about a nameless composition.

Kevin gave her a small smile. _ “That’s what made finding it so hard - I was searching for its English name.” _ He handed her the sheet music, which had  **September** written up the top.  _ “It’s better known by the first line;  _ Alle de voksende skygger _.” _

Kevin spun a tale. It was one of his many talents, Thea had discovered. He wove gold into his words and built his stories int0 statues. Thea could recall almost every single one of Kevin’s anecdotes, their memories littered all over her apartment, his dorm, their bodies. Kevin had turned their lives into a museum of his stories. This monument was built on his couch.

“ _ It’s absolutely gorgeous _ ,” Kevin had gushed. “ _ I mean, it’s about grief, but the text is beautiful _ .”

Beneath the Danish word setting on Kevin’s score, he’d written out the English translation as so;

_ All the growing shadows have woven themselves into one, _

_ Alone in the sky shines a star so bright and pure. _

_ The clouds have so heavy dreams, _

_ Dew flows from flowers eyes, _

_ And strangely sings the evening breeze, _

_ Sings in the Linden trees. _

Thea followed the pencil scribblings with the tip of her finger. She looked to Kevin, who was still going on about the nature based imagery and its significance to the melancholic nostalgia of Summer’s drift into Autumn, the way a life so bright and warm became cold, stagnant - the hollow shell of something once wholly familiar. It was encompassing, the way he spoke, but Thea saw through the fervour of his poetry analysis - there was something younger in his eyes, something still mourning a mother long passed.

It was only when Kevin rounded off his explanation and settled back down to watch the Exy game on-screen that his eyes drifted, memories clouding his focus. His face softened into a slight frown. Thea leaned into his side and ran a hand down her lonely star’s arm, hoping he wouldn’t feel so cold anymore.

Stepping into the boring, beige room where Kevin was diligently scribbling up an essay plan, Thea thought she could hear the haunting whistle of the window through the trees outside. She noted the framed picture of the Foxes, all dogpiled in their pajamas and smiling, sitting on the corner of Kevin’s desk. His orange jersey was folded neatly on the end of his bed, racquet leaning up against the wall collecting dust. 

His room was still very much an outline in need of colouring. It reminded Thea of when she was a little girl, when she had to stay at her Aunty’s house for a week after her Gran died. It was a motionless time, where the floor felt solid and safe, the walls cozy, the beds warm - but the air was silent and rigid. The kitchen was empty and the dining table was never set. 

Kevin was stuck in the same phase of blocked thoughts and circling melancholy. So much so, he paused his actions - something that was becoming more and more of a habit - and gazed absently at the scars along the back of his left hand. He didn't look up until Thea knocked lightly on the door.

"Hey," she greeted. “You okay?”

"Hey," he replied, turning around to face her. "I’m… I need to talk to you about today."

Apprehensive at best, Thea shuffled to place a hand on his shoulder and sit on his lap. "Yeah?"

"I spoke with Bee.” He sighed into her neck, hot and heaving. “Turns out this is kind of a mess."

She had to smile, because Kevin was clearly doing his best to keep his anxiety contained. "How so?" She pressed.

Kevin danced around any damning details that would potentially weigh on the two of them, but Thea was too heavily embedded in the story Kevin was telling for the sentiment to take any effect on her.  _ She _ found him crumpled in the locker room with Riko standing over him, blood trickling out of his jersey.  _ She _ sent him the notes that were stashed under his bed, poetry for him to stay alive, stay sane,  _ stay here _ . Thea was a part of this, whether she and Kevin wanted to admit it or not. The thought of it was haunting, for both of them. 

Kevin left his face close to Thea’s shoulder, lips just above her skin, pressing kisses around the harder parts of his tale to explain. He did this, she knows, to anchor them both. Especially as his story drew to it’s present day.

"I didn't know it was that bad, Kevin," she whispered. "I should have-"

"Stop, no," he said. "No going back to things we can't change."

"Kevin, you're not exactly one to be telling me that."

A small smile ghosted him. "I'm repeating the stuff Bee tells me. It works. There's no fixing what happened, so we might as well focus on what's happening right now."

Thea tried, because Kevin was far more scared than her, but regret i]was too strong an emotion for her to ignore. Kevin held her tighter.

"Thea?" He whispered. She didn't answer. "Hey. What's going on?"

She leaned against his face and kissed his cheek. "I'm alright, just..."

It wasn’t unlike Thea to get anxious, but she hated that this was what set her off. Kevin reached for her hand, locking it in his own.

"Can we lie down?" She asked, feeling hollow and numb.

They did. Thea had never had particularly external anxiety, but she felt like she was about to snap. It was one thing to hear about Kevin's deterioration, but realising she was on the verge of losing him...

"I'm okay," she whispered, mostly to himself. "How are you handling this so well?"

Kevin smiled then. Smiled like he was relieved. "I'm not," he admitted. "Bee left ages ago. I didn't really do so well after that."

"Been drinking?"

Kevin winced. "No. Wymack's house is dry. I didn't really want people to see that, anyway."

If Thea was looking for a silver lining to any of this, it would be Kevin’s sudden sobriety. To be fair, it hadn’t even been a week yet, but it was still a small ray of light in a clusterfuck of bullshit. Thea put a hand up to his jaw. "Love you."

He looked up through his eyelashes and gave a quiet laugh. "Love you, too."

They kissed, something Thea has learnt to enjoy more in the moment than in memory. Days when either of them were feeling particularly drained and sensitive were contactless. It was a mutual understanding, but it pushed Thea to take in as much of Kevin as she could when he was close.

A note on their kissing; Kevin was terrible at timing and his technique consisted of more misses than hits, but he made up for it with enthusiasm. Sometimes Thea thought he used kissing to get out of his own head. When his eyes glazed over and his body began to twitch, he would lean into Thea and quietly ask for permission. He’d wake up a bit after that. It was more like a fix than anything else.

This time, however, they pushed into each other. Kevin pulled himself over top of Thea, hands running down her sides and hips. He was so careful, treating her like glass in his touch, but his kiss was rough. It moved desperately and was riddled with gasps and sighs. He was passionate. Dedicated. Everything Thea loved in him.

Kevin hummed, leaning into Thea’s lips. "Okay?" He asked in a gruff whisper. Thea nodded, lips dragging across Kevin's. "Want anything?"

"Is anyone home?" She panted.

Kevin shook his head. "Don't think so."

"Then yeah."

They carried on from where they paused, Kevin's hands grabbing her body harder. Tender. He shuffled in between her legs and ran his hands down her thighs, kissing her neck, rubbing circles on her soft skin.

"Hey, Kev- oh, _ straight sex _ ."

Andrew, feigning horror, swung the door shut again. Kevin all but collapsed onto Thea, his head on her shoulder. Despite being fully clothed and Andrew having left the room, Thea's first reaction was to cover her boobs with Kevin's abandoned duvet.

"Are you kidding me?" She complained, laughing.

Kevin smiled at her. "Are you decent?" He teased.

"Shut up!"

Kevin kissed her cheek and sat up, getting off the bed. "I have to go shoo him off. Sorry."

Thea sat at the edge of the bed. "Later, then?" She suggested, coy.

Kevin blushed and bit his lip. "Oh yeah."

 

×××

 

Andrew and Neil were in the lounge when Kevin graced them with his presence. Whatever quiet conversation ceased when Andrew saw him, eyebrows raised high.

"Oh, did I interrupt your fun?" He asked, dripping with sarcasm. "What a damn shame. Really."

"A real friend would have left the house by now," Kevin said matter-of-factly.

"We're not friends."

"Oh, sure,” Kevin teased.

"We aren't, I can't stand you."

"You're my friend, fuck you." Kevin picked up a stray Exy training ball (rubber, less painful) and pointed at Neil. "Besides, you can't stand Neil either. You're dating him."

Andrew scowled. "What, you want me to date you, too?"

"No, you love me enough already."

"I don't love you."

"You do. Secretly."

Andrew dropped their banter and turned to Neil. "Weren't you the one with business here, Josten?"

Under that statement, Neil seemed to retract into himself. He'd never been shy around Kevin like this before. It was almost scary.

"Uh...night practices," he prompted quietly. "What should I do?"

Kevin squeezed the ball in his hand. He only replied, "I don't know."

Andrew seemed to roll his eyes at that. "You trained us with a broken hand for hours," Andrew reminded him. "You can do it with a broken mentality."

That didn't feel right to Kevin. He was still reeling from hospital, living with an eating disorder, living with Wymack. Going to the court without a racquet felt like salt on too many cuts.

"I don't know," he repeated.

Before he could overthink things too much, a hand slid up his shoulder. "You okay?" Thea asked.

Kevin couldn't help turning to her, like a moth to light. She was a beacon, as far as he was concerned. "Reckon I should go to night practice?" He asked.

The look of utter disappointment on Thea's face was expected. "Kidding?"

"Not to practice, just to advise."

"Are you going to cry if you walk onto a court you can't play on?"

Kevin hummed. Thea had a point.

He thought about the times when he was still learning to play with his right hand, the way he’d have to watch from the outside while the Foxes played without him. It was a cruel recurrence in his life. He had to watch the world spin while he sat lonely and stuck. It bothered him. 

The problem that Kevin had always had was that he felt alone. He didn’t really have anyone to speak to about his problems - save for Bee, though he never wanted to bother her - but he was always faulted for having them. The team didn’t give a shit whether he was at Fox nights, and any time he didn’t show up to practice was a relief. Wymack sure as shit didn’t take much of a look at his own son until the bastard was lying in a hospital bed. Andrew’s crowd had no issue leaving Kevin alone, despite Kevin’s plea to not let him be by himself for too long. He and Thea hadn’t been in a good place for that sort of reliance  on each other. No one had any sympathy for a man who couldn’t jump his mental barricades. Everyone was so sick of him and his anxiety bullshit, no one was taking him  _ seriously _ , all he wanted was for someone to notice that this was  _ so far _ from normal, so it’s no fucking wonder he stopped taking care-

_ Oh. _

"Oh, come on," Andrew complained. "Kevin, just give into peer pressure and come with us."

Kevin, having just had a rather disturbing thought tangent, wanted to respond but found that he was choking on his words.

“Kevin,” Andrew repeated. “Hey. Get in the car, we’re going.”

“Not tonight,” Kevin almost managed to whisper. Thea hadn’t made a move to comfort him, but she was holding Kevin’s gaze with something sure and dependable, a silent  _ Are you okay? _

“What?” Andrew asked, honestly having not heard Kevin the first time.

“I said  _ not tonight _ ,” Kevin snapped, retreating back into his bedroom. “Work it out by yourselves.”

It was one of the only times Kevin could recall ever backing out of a conversation about Exy, but his mind was suddenly so full, so  _ loud _ . There was so much to think about at once and he only caught glimpses of it all as the door locked behind him. Snaps of the Edgar Allen courts and his red and black uniform -  _ a kind smile from someone he loved dearly. _ Andrew standing up for Nicky and Aaron and Neil and -  _ the sneer and gall of Andrew’s eyes as he tells Kevin to stop crying and deal with himself.  _ Wymack standing proudly beside his team of champions and vagabonds -  _ how he would constantly reprimand Kevin for being too much, not enough,  _ **_what do you want from me_ ** _. _

Kevin was sobbing silently into his Foxes jersey, gasping harshly and wishing he could just get drunk and fuck off, somewhere no one will find him. They wouldn’t go looking -  _ yes they would _ \-  **no** Kevin was losing  **my god damn mind, this is not what’s happening, it can’t be,** **_I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to_ ** what had he  _ done? _

He stopped. The crying stopped. The shaking stopped. The thoughts running rampant all over his brain stopped. He focussed, tunnel vision, on one person, and left through the window.

There was only one place he still truly called home.

 

+++

 

It took 2 buses.

Kevin didn’t remember the ride there, but as he stood at the black iron gates, he knew he was in the right place.

Columns of flowers -  _ he had no flowers _ \- went for a mile or so ahead of him. He thought he could hear music, but it was only the wind blowing through the tall trees that surrounded the lines of decaying headstones.

Kevin hadn’t been there since he was 12. He’d sat beside his mother’s grave, but he didn’t cry. He spoke to the shadows of the flowers that a fan had left, and felt bitter irritation. Never once had his mother just been  _ his _ . He’d always shared her with the world. He couldn’t even grieve alone.

Now he walked slowly, hands stuffed in his hoodie, dizzy and dissociated. The path to her grave was still clear in his mind. He walked past bouquets of roses that seemed to be weeping dew. Her grave had been well kept, though it was baron of any gifts. No one really thought about Kayleigh Day anymore. Not even - until now - Kevin.

Sitting beside her headstone, he felt 12-years-old again, promising he’d come back the next week. Broken promises were Kevin’s motif. He felt with an overwhelming wave of guilt that he had disappointed anyone and everyone he met. There wasn’t one relationship he could think of that he hadn’t stained with his own shameful flaws. Everyone called Neil the runaway - all Kevin has ever done was run from the truth.

Which was brought him to the cemetery. Alone, of course. He felt he’d have some time to introspect before he’d eventually traipse his way back to an unwaiting, unbothered team; a disappointed father; an unsurprised girlfriend. He thought he’d be able to sort out his words and contact Bee on the walk back, be able to at least explain himself to his family. 

Thea approached slowly. Time hadn’t quite moved since Kevin sat down. He braced himself for a scorn. It wasn’t wise for him to be here.

But Thea placed the very tips of her fingers on Kevin’s shoulder. Waited for permission to sit with her boyfriend and his mother - two ghosts who still couldn’t find each other.

“So I guess you’re meeting my mom,” he whispered, unable to look away from the stone inscription.  _ Kayleigh Day. Mother. Friend. Loved. _

Thea hastily wiped her face. “You’ve got a real problem with running away from me, Kevin,” Thea smiled, her voice watery. “Don’t you know I’m always going to find you?”

“I was hoping so.”

He vaguely acknowledged that Andrew and Neil were behind them. Part of Kevin was screaming at him to  _ shut up, no one wants to hear this sappy shit _ . It should have bothered him a lot more. He wasn’t thinking about that, though. He splayed his hand over the grass in front of him.

“I always just thought she’d come back,” he admitted. Thea shut her eyes. “I was so young when it happened, I thought she would come back one day. I didn’t have any concept of permanent loss, I always just assumed…” It had been 13 years. Kevin was still as naïve as he’d been at 7-years-old, waiting for his mother to come back and kiss his forehead, tell him she was sorry for ever leaving him. He gasped, messy and miserable. “I don’t know why, but I thought she’d come  _ back _ .”

Kevin curled in on himself. One knee was brought up to his chest, protecting his heart, his arms pulled around himself. Thea leaned on his shoulder. From behind him, someone draped a coat over the two of them. It didn’t quite fit.

“When everything with Riko, my hand, the Foxes happened, I kept waiting for something,” he went on. “I kept pushing and pushing, trying to do what she’d want me to do. I kept trying to be son she’d always wanted, but I never stopped waiting. No one noticed me when I was good - that was the standard. No one noticed that I was struggling because I was…”  _ Perfect, _ he wanted to say. He wanted to  _ indulge _ . “I was doing what Kayleigh Day would do.”

It occurred to Kevin, then, how he sounded. Then again, if it was true, why shouldn’t he admit that? “At least when I started failing on the court, Wymack took notice of me. Such an inconvenience to everyone else, sure, but my dad finally took a second look at what I was doing. 

“I think, maybe, that I stopped eating because I wanted to look the way I felt,” Kevin explained. “And I wanted her to come back, just to tell me to get my ass into gear. Or hug me. Or give a shit or just fucking  _ be here _ .”

Kayleigh Day had been a loving mother. She hadn’t trained Kevin to be a super soldier of Exy - she had taught him to enjoy success. The problem with joy is that it is, after all, only a chemical. The effects wear off.

“ _ Remember to tidy your room, Kay?”  _ His mother had asked, smiling like she already knew that his answer would be ‘no’.

“ _ Sorry, mom,”  _ Kevin had replied, moving to pack up his books and dirty clothes.

“ _ Oh, doll. Don’t you worry too much. I’m going to be at the store while you’re playing with Riko, would you like anything? _ ”

Kevin had walked into his mother’s arms then, for the last time, and unknowingly let his last words to her be, “ _ Can’t I come with you? _ ”

The day Kevin learnt to live without fulfilment the day was the day he was told that Kayleigh Day had died in a freak car accident by a man who could barely contain his smile. Kevin cried all night, on every hour, because it was just a cruel joke on him. It was real, but he wouldn’t accept that.

He’d almost died trying to.

Before Kevin could fathom the passing of time, he was in the backseat of Andrew’s car, curled up in Neil’s coat, with Thea holding him to keep him warm.

But still, he found himself waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again pls let me know if i missed the mark or wrote something that was a uncomfortable to read because i really don't want to misrepresent eating disorders in this story
> 
> also, decent sized paragraphs whom?


	4. Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is basically Spot The Carry On Reference. also s/o to my old choir director who once told a story so sad i had a breakdown in a church, which inspired this chapter's motif. p.s. sorry about the lateness again l o l university can take my soul, my sanity, my ass.

The next few days all passed in a black and white blur of one-sided conversation and shortcomings on Bee’s therapeutic voice. There were no pictures in Kevin’s room anymore because they had upset him - heavy breathing and distressed sobs as he touched the crumpled paper so gingerly. His Exy gear was all packed away in sealed up boxes, stuffed in . Time moved slowly, non matching puzzle pieces of moments jammed together. Kevin didn’t know if it was Saturday, Monday, still March, or was it August? His head was numb. Strangely, his whispered thoughts were telling him ‘ _ No! You’re too good for this!’ _

Which made absolutely no sense to Kevin anymore, but he took it to heart anyway.

He heard the conversations in the dining room and let them wash over him, words sticking to his skin but never sinking in. Words like  _ hospital, treatment, help, grieving  _ \- Kevin felt like he was drowning in his own mental fog and choking on all of the jargon that Bee was spitting out. He was lost in all of this, sinking hard and fast, watching himself fall into an abyss.

Thea sat beside him most of the time, hand on his arm; a warm reminder that he was still there even as he was fading, fading fast. That was the only contact they maintained. There were no more kisses, or hugs, or cuddling up in bed and sleeping through the middle of the day. It was painful. Kevin missed her. 

He knew, however, that if he let her any closer to himself, he’d break.

It had been 2 nights since Kevin went consciously unresponsive. He hadn’t said a word to anyone since he’d sat beside his mother’s grave and dug up all of his old unhealed aches. Through the days he would eye the quiet bottle of amber bourbon that now sat atop Wymack’s pantry cupboards; through the nights he stole swigs and let the burn spread through his ribs, wondered how long it would take before he found singe marks on his skin and blisters in his lungs. He wondered, with a frail body and broken mind, how long it would take for the drink to kill him. Truly, all he wanted was to cease existing. If he could take Thea’s memories - Andrew’s and Neil’s, too - he would pick himself out of every soft moment and sweet smile, every victory he won against himself: being  _ someone _ . Not just famous. Not just enviable. A person, who loved people and they love him back. He would destroy it all.

_ This is what I deserve _ .

He left his earbuds in most of the time, listening to repetitions of melodies and the occasional lyrics, letting them become numb with him. With every song, he took the meaning away from it, leaving it a bare skeleton of coincidental notes, no method to the madness. The words were mostly foreign anyway, so it took little effort to forget what they were saying. Listening to his music, looking at the way Andrew and Neil left comforting touches and offerings of food for both Thea and Kevin himself, he realised how easy it was to suck out the joy in his life, and how it cost his loved ones so much.

His mind wandered to the Moriyama deal. His eyes stayed on Thea the entire time he thought about it. She didn’t know anything about it.

News was bound to break soon. Kevin had missed one game already, piquing the interest of many interviewers and talk shows in the area. Another absence was going to require an address. There would be no hiding his self-destruction from the Moriyamas, then. Kevin wouldn’t survive the press conference. As long as he was no use to them, they had no reason to keep him alive and every motivation to kill him. They’d find his body crumpled up in the locker rooms, or maybe the lounge, eyes no less dead than they already were. Neil would probably have to shell out a higher percentage of his pay, or Thea would be forced to take Kevin’s place in the deal. Maybe all of the Foxes would be reprimanded.

That wouldn’t make sense, though. The last thing the Moriyamas would target was a team that was glad Kevin was gone.

That tangent circled Kevin’s head a few times. It felt like he was watching one of the old model train-sets that used to sit in the front of an old toy shop that Kevin and his mother would frequent when he was younger. He’d stare at it for ages in wonderment, Kayleigh standing behind him with her take-away coffee and her eye on the time. Kevin always knew he could never have big, expensive toys like those trains - Riko would break it.  _ A distraction _ , he’d sneer,  _ is the last thing  _ you _ need. _

Even so, Kayleigh would ask him; “ _ Would you like one of those for Christmas? _ ”

And Kevin would. He wanted something close to a luxury, something as meaningless and sentimental as a model train, given to him by his mum. It would loop over and over in it’s figure-eight circuit, while Kevin mulled over it. His fingertips would always find their way to the glass.

“ _ No, thank you _ ,” he’d lie. 

It was frightening to care about something that wasn’t really his.

Memories like this were a dangerous indulgence of Kevin’s. They were a warm comfort, usually. He could feel his mother’s hands on his shoulders, smell her old perfume, trick himself into believing that she was still alive. The illusion would last a few too many moments. 

His hope would be crushed as soon as he saw that look from Andrew.  _ Snap out of it, this isn’t real. You know that. Be better. _ The two of them would share a meaningful look over Kevin’s cold cup of tea. Andrew would bring him a hot one. Kevin never wondered why Andrew cared so much. It was all so american gothic.

His playlist started over again. Kevin had memorised the order of the songs, now. They were all beginning to sound the same - something that Kevin was not a fan of thinking - and listening to it was becoming tiring. 

It was when he was taking his shameful drinks in the trough of the night that he finally listened to what he was hearing.

_ I’m up in the woods, _

_ I’m down on my mind, _

_ I’m building a still, _

_ To slow down the time. _

That was it. That was all it had to be. Repeated several times over, each time conveying a different feeling. The kitchen was no longer a tiny compartment in Wymack’s home; Kevin couldn’t say where it was. The woods, he guessed, for the sake of shit making sense, but it was unlikely.

{WOODS ANALYSIS} Loops. He was stuck in them. The same hour of music, the same 4 lines, the same cycle of grief. Even when he was entirely detached from anything that could even remotely remind him of his mother, he’d imagine walking his old house. It was never voluntary. He’d simply wander there in his mind, remembering how tall the doors were from when he was barely a metre tall, gazing longingly up at all of the awards and picture of his mother’s . The house was never cold when he was growing up, but now it felt cold and empty. It didn’t take Kevin a whole lot of thought to come up with why that might be.

He’d always climb into his mother’s old bed, because he remembered the mornings he’d spend with her watching T.V and snuggling her arm. Kayleigh would always smell of ceylon tea and roses. These mornings were the only soft moments Kevin could hold so tightly. 

There was a picture frame on her bedside table, one that Kevin treasured dearly. After Kayleigh died, Kevin thought he might get to keep the pictures around the house of the two of them. 

He was mistaken.

In his mind’s eye, he could see the photograph clear as day, though he knew that there would be details he’d missed. It was a picture of them, mother and son, on a cold Christmas morning. They were smiling, wearing their pajamas and drinking hot chocolate, Kevin in his mother’s lap and Kayleigh hold him with one arm. How old was Kevin, 3 years old, 4? The memory was getting so fuzzy the more time went by. Perhaps that was why he loved that photograph so much; it kept that day alive. 

But seeing that frame, in the centre of his mind, sitting on a morning scented bed without his mother to hold him, Kevin found himself struck by those 4 lines. Down on his mind, he would anything to have slowed time down while he was with his mother. He missed her voice, the thick Irish accent she had, the way she sang as she cooked and hummed lullabies in Kevin’s ear. He missed her hands, how they’d stroke his cheek and ruffle his hair, how the were always soft, never violent. He missed his mother, because for so long after she died, he held onto his words, his feelings, hoping that she would come back.

But she was never coming back.

That thought yanked Kevin out of his own head, and he downed another gulp of bourbon.

Kevin couldn’t remember going to the bathroom at all, but he was staring down at the bottle of pills, too drunk to read the label, with that song on repeat.  _ Slow down the time _ , it said. No, Kevin wanted time to stop.

“Kev, no,” Thea whispered, crouching down to take away the bourbon and pills. “Come on, we’re going back to bed.”

But Kevin resisted. It was the most action he made over the few past days. His distress was reflected in Thea’s watering eyes. “No, y...you,” he slurred. “I have to.”

“Kevin, no.” Thea wasn’t crying, but she was quietly anxious. Her hands were gripping Kevin’s arms, shaking. “No, you don’t. Come back to bed, you’re still okay.”

“Moriyamas,” Kevin admitted. At least, he thought it was an admission. Thea smiled in relief at the mention of the name, beginning a spiel about how those days were behind them. “No, they...kill me.”

“Babe, it’s been a year, it’s over.”

“No. No!  _ No _ , it isn’t. I have- to  _ pay _ . I have to go pro. They want…we made a deal.”

Kevin leaned forward, his head on Thea’s shoulder. Where there would ordinarily be a response (a hand in his hair, a kiss on his temple), Thea remained rigid. 

“What was the deal, Kevin?” She asked, voice low and hollow.

“Gotta play pro,” Kevin explained to the best of his abilities. “They want money, from what I’ll earn. S’why they didn’t kill us.”

“Who is ‘us’, Kevin?” 

Kevin was about to throw up, but his mind was too far away from anything to identify whether it was anxiety or the alcohol. “Neil ‘nd I.”

The room was cold. Everything was cold in those days at Wymack’s house. The way Thea carried Kevin back to bed was cold. The dark was cold. The empty bed was freezing.

“Thea,” Kevin pleaded, watching her leave.

She stopped and turned.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin went on. “I should have told you.”

Thea only shrugged.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she said. “Goodnight, Kevin.”

 

+

 

Waking up was harder than Kevin had anticipated. The headache was one thing, the heartache was another. He could hear conversations again. This time, Thea’s voice was absent. Kevin could guess that she wasn’t in the house.

He got up by himself, pulled on socks and a thermal and a hoodie. It wasn’t particularly cold outside. Autumn had only just begun, so there was an April chill in the mornings, but it was harder for Kevin. He was losing the ability to retain body heat because of the lack of essential fat on his body. Quietly, he cursed every media platform that ever said his current physique was ‘desirable’. Sudden spurts of hair had started cropping up all over his body to try and keep him warm -  _ nothing _ about that was desirable.

Shuffling out to the too-bright kitchen, Kevin saw Andrew and Neil having tense conversation over their cups of coffee. Judging by the guilty look on Neil’s face, the Moriyama deal was a hot topic of the morning.

“Oh, good morning, sunshine,” Andrew quipped. “Did you get enough sleep, or are you waiting until Ichirou puts a bullet in your thick skull?”

“At this point, death is a blessing,” Kevin replied, pouring himself a glass of milk and sprinkling cereal into it. 

He’d woken up with a motivation to get better. That happened, occasionally. He’d have four hours, give or take, where he wanted to get better and eat something. Once that time was up, though, the regret of it settled in. He’d let out a long suffering sigh and throw away whatever food he had left, then go to bed for a few hours in order to ignore his mind’s taunts and his body’s complaining. Despite the fact that all he really wanted to do that day was walk into the ocean and let fate have her fun, Kevin was determined to try again, at least. 

“Thea’s gone to the store, by the way,” Andrew mentioned.

Kevin had to push that to the back of his mind as he fished cereal out of his glass and transferred it to his mouth. Thinking about how Thea must be feeling, how  _ stupid _ he felt for not telling her, made eating so much harder. He couldn’t explain why. Bee would say it was because issues such as eating disorders and other forms of self-harm are multi-layered and don’t have a single, direct reason behind them. Kevin would say it’s because all of this was bullshit, and his life was bullshit, and the fact that he had to deal with all of this bullshit on top of his other bullshit made all of this bullshit such  _ bullshit. _

“Nicky and Aaron are in the other room,” Neil offered.

Kevin stopped for a moment. “What did you say?” He asked.

The comment wasn’t at all insulting, although Kevin  _ sounded  _ insulted. Neil gave him a look. “Nicky. And Aaron. Here. Other room.”

Kevin couldn’t help frowning. “Why?”

Andrew scowled. “Because they’re worried about you, dipshit,” he bit out. Neil winced at the tone.

Kevin put a straw in his milk and thought about that. Nicky and Aaron… well, they were  _ teammates _ , but they were hardly  _ friends _ , right?

( _ Right? _ )

Sure enough, the cousins were sat in the lounge, standing up when Kevin walked in. He had half a mind to tell them that he wasn’t the Queen, they didn’t need to stand, but the words died on him.

They looked so worn out. Even Aaron was paler, eyes miserable and heartbroken.

“Hey,” Kevin said, voice small. The silence stretched further than he’d expected, though he wasn’t surprised. 

“You look  _ worse _ ,” Nicky exhaled. 

Kevin sipped his milk.

“I thought seeing you hooked up to tubes and shit was the worst it would get,” Nicky went on. Kevin looked away, one arm wrapped around his torso. “Kev, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Kevin defended, refusing to look at either of the cousins. Neither of them moved. Kevin felt unnecessarily anxious. “I just got worse. Didn’t mean to.”

This was the thing: it was easy to forget that Kevin was still a grieving child when he stepped onto the court. He’d learnt to command that space. No one could patronise him, or look down on him, or be concerned about him. He was in control. He had no reason to punish himself. 

This situation, however, was different. When Nicky looked at Kevin - that same way he looked at the twins, who he’d raised through high school taken care of everyday since - there was no way for Kevin to keep his guard up. He was just a kid, at heart. Mourning and motherless. Kevin had no control anymore.

He chewed his straw.

“I don’t wanna explain it, you’ll have to ask Andrew,” Kevin whispered, slowly hunching in on himself. “Thanks for checking in, though.”

But Aaron wasn’t quite done.

Which didn’t make any sense. Aaron had never cared about Kevin before, so why would he now? The two of them conflicted at every opportunity, to the point where Andrew had to be the voice of moral reason.  _ Andrew. _

“Sit down, Kevin,” Aaron ordered.

Kevin shook his head softly and tried to back away. “No, thank you-”

“Kevin,  _ sit down _ .”

It was humiliating. Kevin wished  _ so badly  _ that he weren’t a push over outside of the court. It was a terrible thing to be. Especially since he used to be a bulked up, 6’2” man. Andrew just had to look at him strangely and Kevin would be ripping his hair out trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.

Kevin sat on one end of the couch, curled into the corner, sipping his milk through his straw. Aaron sat right up next him, scowling the same way Andrew had, and turned the T.V onto morning cartoons.

And then he lay against Kevin. Something close to a hug.

“Why-?”

“When Andrew or I woke up with nightmares,” Aaron explained, “Nicky would put cartoons on for a while and we’d sit together. It was comforting. You looked like you were about to throw up a self-help book.”

The sentiment was warming. Kevin didn’t know why, but he felt that if Andrew had extended the same ritual, it wouldn’t have been the same. Tenderness with Andrew was a small given for Kevin. Their proximity had its perks, certainly. Aaron, however, was on-guard, any way you pleased him. Ten-times more difficult to appease than anyone else on the team - yet here was his happy place.

On the couch, cuddled up to someone, watching cartoons with his brother.

Kevin didn’t watch the show at all. He let his head spin with a broken record of that damn song.  _ Building a still to slow down the time _ . That didn’t need to be sad, did it? Because Kevin would do anything to slow time down now, to save this memory in his heart and unfold it whenever he couldn’t see the point in trying to get better anymore. 

Kevin pondered this as Nicky stood above the boys on the couch, requesting that they move over to make room for him. Kevin sat in the centre, then, and found that only 10 minutes later, Andrew and Neil had joined their squashed together watch party; Neil tucked under Nicky’s arm on Kevin’s left, Andrew lying on Aaron’s shoulder on the right. For the first time in many days, Kevin felt the room stop spinning. He held onto time and made it wait for him to catch up, savouring every moment he had with his friends.

He was all too aware of his fate.

After watching only one episode of something with too many colours, Kevin found himself dozing off, gazing at the empty milk glass on the table and letting his eyes close over it. 

Half-awake and almost dreaming, he heard Thea speaking:

“Look at that. All your monsters, Wymack, but I don’t think I see a single villain.”


	5. Clair de Lune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldnt do this story and NOT have a chapter dedicated to Clair de Lune ok. debussy is my first and only love. 
> 
> im also going to neatly avoid the fact that this took me two months to complete lmao!!! in my defense i had exams

Wymack still insisted on serving Kevin dinner, whether or not it was eaten. Kevin thought that being a Coach to a bunch of vagabonds and care-starved bastards must have given him the patience of a saint. Still, it was a gesture that Kevin more than appreciated. 

The two of them sat perpendicular at the dining table, silence shrouding them. Wymack, who was often seen to eat quickly and almost barbarically, chewed slowly in front of Kevin and tried to take his time, so not to make Kevin feel pressured into eating too much at once. The thought went unnoticed, though, as Kevin spent his time staring at the empty seat next to himself, imagining his mother sitting with them. 

“I spoke to Thea today,” Wymack admitted, probably realising what Kevin was doing. It was a strain, but the latter managed an ‘interested’ hum of approval. “Trouble in paradise?”

Kevin couldn’t help himself. “Yeah, my relationship would run a lot smoother if the Yakuza could just  _ butt out _ ,” he quipped lazily. The fork in his hands twirled, still sparkling a clean under the fluorescent lights of Wymack’s kitchen. “I don’t know.”

“She has the idea that you don’t want her close enough to know whether or not you’re going to die,” Wymack pointed out. Kevin slid his gaze over to his father, with a scowl that would Andrew Minyard to shame. “Hey, she’s got a point. You have a serious problem with letting people in.”

Fork discarded, Kevin scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. The mixture of fatigue and guilt was exhausting him to no end. If that day were any worse, Kevin would have delivered himself to the Moriyamas and begged for a bullet.

“I know,” he revealed, deciding to push any residual jackassery aside. “I’m scared. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me, but I hurt her in the process.”

It was as candid as that moment in the car, after the hospital, with Wymack’s heart laid out on the dashboard, just for Kevin. 

Wymack paused, taking a sip of his whiskey. Both of them were pretending that the bottle was still full. “All it would take to fix this is a conversation, Kev,” he advised, sipping again. “She loves you. You love her. Don’t throw away something good on account of your pride.” He stared into his glass wistfully. “It isn’t worth it.”

Kevin was blanking out, thinking about Wymack’s words as he scrutinised the empty chair across from him. He wished Thea were there. They could have an almost-family dinner. Kevin, his father, and the girl he truly did want to spend all of his time with. Even that would fill some sort of hole in Kevin’s heart. 

“I’ll be in my room, if you want to talk,” Wymack told Kevin, the minutes having passed them so quickly.

Kevin shoved a single green bean in his mouth, making Wymack grin. It was a frustratingly fulfilling thing to make Wymack proud. Just the warm feeling in Kevin’s chest made him eat all of the green things on that plate, as way of a compromise. Wymack watched as he washed dishes, but eventually left Kevin to himself and his green beans. 

Sitting on his own, the room dimmer than it had been just before, Kevin felt like a child coming to the end of grade school. Some part of him was ending, and while it was unclear what that was, it made Kevin settle in his seat. Nothing about him was dying, no, but it felt like he was going to sleep.

Being as attached to music as Kevin was, he’d often wondered what songs would play at the credits roll of his life. When all was lost to time or wrath, and he could finally find some peace, what would he hear? What would the play for him as he walked into the arms of the loved ones he’d lost? And every time, he settled on one memory, uncovered from the depths of his trauma woven adolescence; a small glimmer that made him believe in the hope of a better, easier life.

It was the first time he’d ever seen Thea outside of anything related to Exy. She was sat in the lounge above the dining hall, softly pressing on the keys of an old, upright piano.  _ Clair de Lune, _ Kevin would later discover. The song she was playing wasn’t familiar to him at the time, even though it’s fame (or perhaps notoriety) among music students was abundant. However, he’d always liked the high notes of a piano. They made anything sound so simple and clear. Kevin felt like he could breathe when they were played so softly. 

But this song beneath clinking high notes made them sound so sad. It sounded like something that had long been lost, crying out to be found again. Hopeless. The kind of melancholy you get, hearing a lullaby when there’s no one to sing you to sleep anymore. Thea played slowly, carefully. She was still learning the piece. Kevin felt every note from that dusty piano settle around his heart, and fell in love.

_ Not dying _ , Kevin thought, stepping out of his thoughts and staring at the empty seat next him.  _ No. Just going to sleep. _

 

+

 

Wymack’s light was still on when Kevin went to say goodnight, something he had never done before. In truth, he wanted to ask Wymack about the Foxes - progress, issues, drills. Perhaps, to a lesser extent, he wanted to see what it was like to be his father’s son.

Kevin knocked twice, surprising Wymack out of his book. “Kid, hey,” he chuckled. “You scared me. What’s up?”

Not replying immediately, Kevin opted to stand just inside the door, his back against the frame. Wymack sat up and cracked out his neck. “Just wanted to catch up,” Kevin supplied. “Exy, the Foxes, I haven’t really asked about them. It feels like I’m falling out of the loop, a bit.”

Wymack sighed, placing his book on his bedside table and regarding Kevin with some judgement. It felt something close to familiar. He pat the spot next to him on his bed. “There’s good reason for that, Kevin. C’mere.”

If he concentrated, it was Kayleigh Day, in their old house. Saturday morning with Kayleigh’s cup of tea being used as a dip for Kevin’s cookies, the History Channel on just in front of them. The memory felt warm, but tired. It no longer had the same poignancy as before. 

Tentatively Kevin shuffled over, laying on the bed lightly, trying to not to disturb it too much. It didn’t occur to Kevin (as it did to Wymack), how often Kevin tried to be unnoticeable. He lay a short way’s apart from Wymack, his legs still hanging over the edge, feet touching the floor. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get closer - he desperately wanted to feel some kind warmth from his father - but Wymack was such an out-of-bounds person.

“Get your ass over here,” Wymack said, a snap to his tone that Kevin knew wasn’t serious. Leaning his head on his father’s shoulder, Kevin let himself fall against Wymack. The two of them seeked out the comfort in each other that they had so sorely missed out on in the lost years of their family. Wymack held Kevin by one arm around his back. Kevin held onto Wymack and felt himself relax for the first time in a long time. “Christ, kid. You’re barely making a dent.”

It wasn’t true, of course. In fact, the very fact that he  _ was _ making a dent - in other people’s lives, in his career, in Wymack’s house - was a hard pill to swallow. Kevin rested one hand on Wymack’s arm and closed his eyes, willing for calm to extend her hand to him again.

“The team is doing…fine,” Wymack sighed. “I mean, we won the last game. We played  _ fine _ . There was just something wrong, though. No finesse, all technique lost. Josten was scoring goals by accident and our defense was just nonsensical brawling. It was disappointing to see.”

This was news to Kevin. He had been banned from any Exy news, which included watching the games online, but he had heard that the team had won. Neil hadn’t been stoked to share the news at the time. Kevin had wondered why. Now, it made sense.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Kid,  _ you left _ ,” Wymack scoffed. “Don’t tell me you thought that was going to happen quietly. The team has been struggling without you, because whether they like it or not, you help them to give a shit about the quality of their game. Yes, we won. I expected something smug out of the team, something at your expense, but do you know what the first thing they did was?” Kevin shook his head. “They critiqued themselves. They knew they were doing terribly, but no one was there to say it. They took that role onto themselves because it helps. 

“I mean, you could lose the attitude that goes with it,” Wymack added on, making Kevin laugh, “but they need you. No one ever thought that we didn’t need you. You’re the greatest striker in the game at this level.”

“I  _ was _ ,” Kevin whispered.  _ Making a dent _ .

Coach sighed, holding Kevin a little bit tighter. “I’m going to make you a deal. You eat lunch tomorrow - actual lunch - and I’ll let you sit in on practice, yeah?”

Kevin squirmed uncomfortably. He already felt heavy and sick from the idea. Instead of answering, he closed his eyes again.

“I know it might not happen so quickly,” Wymack explained softly, “but you’ll get there. I know you will.”

 

+

 

Kevin had fallen asleep to his favourite lullaby that night, the one he’d adopted after seeing Thea play it so broken and slow, still mapping out the path the song was set to take. He was curled up in his own bed, two more blankets than usual draped over his body. It was high time he started allowing himself to feel safe and cozy.

At 7am, he woke up. Thea had walked into his room and tripped over the cord for his laptop. She had frozen in place, hands out to brace herself, but the fall didn’t happen. Kevin couldn’t help laughing.

The relief of an actual emotion, something close to dreaming wide awake, made Thea sigh and smile. She crossed the room and climbed into bed with Kevin, already looking apologetic. 

“I’m glad to see you smiling,” she noted, leaning closer into his chest. Kevin pressed a kiss to her forehead, tucking her into the hold of his arm. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was angry and upset, but it was uncalled for. I know that. I love you. I really am sorry.”

The words settled on Kevin’s mind with a light flutter. Sure, the apology was appreciated, but he didn’t mind that. No, he had his own debts to repay. 

“I’m more sorry,” he teased, always one to make a competition out of anything. “Seriously. I’ve been keeping you at arm’s length. That’s not fair. Who do you love if you don’t get to know my life?”

“Bold of you to assume that I love you.”

“ _ Hey. _ ”

Thea giggled and curled into Kevin’s chest. “But…I’m not going to say that you’re wrong,” Thea went on. “I know this must be hard for you. It’s your life, always in the hands of others. Let me be here, though, Kevin. I want to love you, but I don’t know how if you’re going to keep your  _ literal deadline _ from me. I’m sorry, but I deserve more than that from the man that I love.”

Guilt was cold over Kevin’s shoulders. He hadn’t really thought about Thea in all of his mess. As soon as they’d reconnected before the championship game, he’d thought that chapter of his life could settle into comfort. It wasn’t as though Kevin had intended on his spiral towards the barrel of the Moriyama gun, but he also hadn’t realised the effect this had all had on his peers, family,  _ girlfriend _ , when they couldn’t even see the bullet he was so afraid of. 

Thea deserved more than that from her boyfriend. Wymack deserved better than that from his son. Andrew deserved better than that from his friend.

“You’re right,” Kevin conceded, closing his eyes as he spoke and putting to sleep what pride he had left. “You’re better than half-truths. I should have treated you better than I have. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I ever did, but please believe me; I didn’t think there was another choice. I was young and scared and I didn’t want you to be hurt on my behalf. I hurt you, though, and I’m mature enough now to take blame for that. I’m sorry. You mean so much to me.”

Thea coaxed Kevin’s eyes open and gave him a small smile, settling comfortably onto his chest. “We’re always going to be learning,” she said sagely. 

“I’m sorry my learning curve hit you in the face.”

When Thea laughed, Kevin fell in love just a little bit more. He pressed his forehead to hers and kissed her fiercely, realising just how much he had missed the feeling of her lips against his, hands in his hair, her body on his. If Kevin could stay in that moment for the rest of his life, he would. 

“Sleep, babe,” Thea told him, guiding his head back to the pillow. “It’s alright. Go to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i mention that i actually made the playlist for this story? its on spotify. there are only like 2 more chapters (i think) after this but the playlist is JAM PACKED full of that romantic/contemporary period music that kevin 100% gets thea to listen to and they dance to it in wymack's kitchen


	6. Dem dunkeln Schoß der heilgen Erde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> late again but i swear its worth it ooOH

Kevin had a love-hate relationship with belts. He hadn’t felt the need to scrutinize this relationship before, but it was slowly taking over his life and thoughts. They had always been a novelty for him, really, because he used to have the muscle mass to buy jeans and slacks that actually fit him. If he wore one, it was for the look, or security. It had never been an integral part of his aesthetic. 

Post-hospital, he wore sweatpants  _ exclusively _ . Why would he wear anything else? The days were autumnal and he would likely freeze if it weren’t for his fleece lined sweats. A distinct lack of body fat meant he was constantly cold. Besides, he wasn’t going anywhere special. Why bother getting ready for a cancelled date?

However, the day came. Andrew had texted him something succinct about grabbing coffee — just coffee — in the late morning. He was given the instruction ‘dress like you aren’t hopeless’, so the sweats were kicked to the curb for the day.  _ Jeans _ , though. That shouldn’t have been a hard thought, but there was no template for what to expect anymore. Would they fit? Would they be baggy? What if they weren’t — was he going to be able to hold his anxiety in? 

He pulled a pair of his old black skinny jeans on and sighed. They didn’t fit.

Belts were not an easy option. Kevin was minutely aware of this, as he considered showing up in sweatpants anyway. Still, he chucked one on, hesitated, and pulled it tight. 

He had been thinking that the fourth rung would do him just fine. He had let himself expect it. There was barely any muscle mass in the way, it  _ made sense _ — 

The belt jammed at the third rung. Any tighter and Kevin wouldn’t have been able to sit.

Beneath his dread, Kevin wanted to smile. This was  _ recovery _ . This was  _ good. _ He wasn’t hopeless, he was a stone’s throw away from the next step of healing. He tried to focus on this, but the panic that took ahold of him was too strong. He ended up retching from the force of an anxiety attack. 

Andrew found Kevin in the bathroom one hour later. Still shaking. Still crying.  _ It was all so useless _ .

“Call me the next time this happens, idiot,” Andrew muttered, wiping up Kevin’s face. Kevin hadn’t woken up from his anxiety driven dissociation. Andrew sighed, staring at his friend’s wild, vacant eyes. “I’m looking after you, today.”

Kevin made a noise. He wasn’t sure what it meant or where it came from, but it was the best response Andrew was getting for that sentiment.

“I’m going to help you into your pajamas; yes or no?” He asked.

“Ye-s,” Kevin answered. They both relaxed a bit.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting on Kevin’s bed, drinking coffee, saying nothing. Despite the silence, Andrew’s presence was loud enough for Kevin to anchor himself onto. Occasionally, Andrew would crack his back, or sigh at a text message, and Kevin would resurface out of his own head to take a sip of his quickly cooling coffee. Andrew almost always grimaced when he saw this. The two of them were getting a bit too close for his comfort.

“The team misses you,” Andrew admitted a little while later.

The comment was simply another anchor for Kevin. He held onto it, entertaining the words without listening to what they meant. Once again, he grunted in response, if only to provide noise amongst the silence. 

“Do you understand that?” Andrew asked quietly. “ _ We _ miss you. A lot. We want you to be okay.”

Disjointed. That didn’t fit.

“Kevin,” Andrew urged, unable to get through the haze of confusion that crowded his friend. “Kevin,  _ look at me _ .”

Andrew had never sounded desperate. He wasn’t often known for his attachment to people. However, when Kevin broke his gaze from the wall and stared owlishly at his friend, it became apparent that Andrew was near breaking point.

_ He looks like Aaron _ , Kevin realised, noticing what grief looked like on the twins.

“You have to get better,” Andrew decided, shaky. “You  _ will _ . I am not going to lose you.”

It was hard to hear. Harder to believe.

“Okay,” Kevin replied, holding his hand out to Andrew, who took it with haste. “Thank you.”

“Shut up.”

Kevin managed a smile.

 

×

 

The two of them made lunch, with Kevin working entirely on autopilot and Andrew neatly avoiding the conversation that went along the lines of  _ I-know-you-won’t-eat-this-but-we’ve-started-and-I-don’t-know-how-to-stop-without-making-you-feel-bad. _

Low and behold, Kevin barely picked at it. That was okay, though. Andrew told him so.

“You’re allowed to have bad days,” were his exact words, carefully ripping up his toasted sandwich and sticking the little pieces in his mouth. Slowly. Like Wymack did with dinner. Kevin felt heavy with burden. “It’s a natural part of healing.”

“‘Natural healing’ is taking too long,” Kevin sniped. Not at Andrew, though that’s what it sounded like. “Sorry.”

Andrew shrugged, poking another piece of his sandwich into his mouth. “I get it. You need this, though. Relapse helps you get stronger.”

_ Yes _ , Kevin thought bitterly,  _ but it hurts. I’m sick of hurting. _

The hour dragged on. It got to a point where Kevin couldn’t bare the sight of food anymore, the sandwich on his plate making him nauseous, so he moved to the couch and curled in on himself. There was a blanket around his shoulders, despite the temperature steadily creeping up to the 80s. Andrew seemed to notice, if his recurring grimace was anything to go by. Still, he sat down next to Kevin - not touching - and sighed.

“You owe me a coffee,” Andrew threw out, touching his knuckles to Kevin’s. 

Slowly, over slow minutes passing, Andrew leaned into Kevin more. It ran up their arms to their shoulders, until Andrew had his head rested on Kevin’s shoulder, their hands clasped but not intertwined.

“You’re important to me,” Kevin said with a hollow voice and a quiet sigh. “Thank you for staying.”

Andrew squeezed. “Said I would protect you, didn’t I?”

Maybe they would never say it, never admit the weight of these words — but for that moment, both of them felt sure of an unspoken truth.  _ You’re my best friend.  _ Like kids. Like fools.

 

×

 

“Fox…” 

“Fox night.”

“That doesn’t clarify anything.”

Kevin huffed, a teasing smile on his lips. “Team bonding,” he explained. “We watch movies and drink shit. It’s...formative.”

Thea mulled this over with a vague sense of recognition. There hadn’t been a lot of ‘bonding’ in the Nest, save for the occasional fuck and a common goal to be the best team to grace a court. Friends weren’t easy to come by.

Fox night didn’t sound like it could cause any harm, but Kevin was approaching it as though it were a venture into the  _ Chamber of Secrets. _

“Why are acting like this, then?” Thea asked. “It sounds like fun. You know what that is, right?”

Kevin levelled a look with her. “Ha ha. I know how to have fun,” he defended. “It’s just…”

It was an implication of a reason, but Thea understood. She let him stutter out the words and stumble over himself, backtrack, but Thea understood. She simply placed a hand over Kevin’s.

“I’ll go with you,” she assured him. “It could be nice to meet your team.”

Kevin smiled sheepishly.

 

×

 

It was the first time Kevin had been back to the Monsters dorm since his accident. Could he call it an accident? For all his intents, it was  _ accidental _ .

Nicky had just about bawled as Kevin and Thea had entered the dorm, bowling Kevin over in a hug and knocking him into the wall. Once, Kevin would have snapped at Nicky and pinned him to the ground. That day was soft, though. Kevin hugged back.

The other boys were milling around, setting up food and drinks and blankets, letting Kevin and Thea relax on each other. They commandeered one end of the couch, cuddled up underneath a ratty old blanket that smelt like cigarettes, speaking quietly to one another. Kevin was teaching Thea some French while they waited for the rest of the team.

(Teaching was probably too strong of a word. Thea knew most of what Kevin knew, so she simply lay on his chest and asked him to translate the phrases she gave him. Most of them were compliments to herself, which Kevin couldn’t argue with. He enjoyed the calm space they had while he could.)

“How do I say, ‘You look beautiful, tonight?’” she asked quietly.

Kevin grinned. “ _ Tu es magnifique, ce soir _ .”

Thea hummed. “ _ Merci, mon amore. _ ”

There was a distant sound of Neil fake-retching accompanied by Andrew booing as they turned to answer the begging door.

Kevin was braced for everything that came through that door, but found it easier to focus on Thea. She kept him pointedly occupied, stroking his hair back softly and asking him for more translations. When she could no longer think of any phrases to learn, she opened up the playlist Kevin had made (quite suitably named ‘ _ for her.’ _ ) and told him her favourite songs he’d included.

“This one,” she said, playing the song quietly, phone held between their heads so only they could hear. “You added it last week. What does it mean?”

The song was Brahms. A choral piece. Kevin was getting into choral music more and more as he found himself less willing sink into the soil of a song to get to the meaning. He wanted to just  _ know _ . Guessing was getting dangerous because wrong turns were leading him down paths back to mourning and self-destruction. It was hard finding songs he  _ liked,  _ though. Even this one was a hard sell.

Despite the lack of sense,  _ Dem dunkeln Schoß _ was the shortened name that Kevin gave the piece, because  _ Dem dunkeln Schoß der heilgen Erde  _ — which also happened to be the first line of the text — was a bit of a mouthful. He’d searched everywhere for the translation and ended up thoroughly confused. Really, this song was messing with his head a bit. He was still walking blindly down one of those poetic paths, only this time, the end wasn’t clear.

“It’s in German so I don’t know,” Kevin replied. “The first line Google translates to ‘ _ The holy Earth shot to the dark _ ’, but it would probably change with context.”

Thea only nodded. “Gotta be honest, I’m just thinking of Bon Jovi now.”

Kevin snorted.

Really, he was sitting in a room of 4 people who could speak German. Any one of them could have had a look at the text and told him what the general idea was. However, there was something private about Kevin and music that felt exclusive to him and Thea. Though he couldn’t play any instrument or carry a tune, music was a part of his identity. It spoke to him where no words could comfort. It understood him in a way that no spoken language could. Kevin could speak 3 languages fluently, could stumble through another, and knew enough sign language to hold a basic conversation, but music was a language beyond all of that for him. It didn’t provide a connection with any person. It gave him a connection to  _ himself _ .

That was why Thea had to know Kevin in 2 languages. He was one person in front of her, telling her about his day and asking her how she was feeling, but he was another person through the voice of a composer. He never told her this. He would never admit that he could be so sentimental. Thea knew, though. She did know.

So, no. None of the boys would be asked by Kevin to translate something so deeply ingrained in his bones. Too personal, too vulnerable. Kevin could hardly stand the thought. 

Part of him knew, however, just listening to the rise and fall of the choir, the tenderness in their voices and the comfort in the melody, that this song was forgiving. It forgave him for letting his mourning sleep. It forgave his mother for leaving so soon. It forgave whatever force of nature separated a son from his mother so early and it let them rest at long last. Finally, as the rest of the Foxes filed through the door, surprised and relieved to see Kevin again, he felt as though everything had stopped. He was no longer in motion. He was home.

“You  _ asshole! _ ” Allison exclaimed, walking over to him as he stood and pushing him back onto the couch with the force of her hug. Kevin only protested minimally. “You absolute asshole,” she added, muffled in the corner of his neck.

Kevin hugged back, spying Thea’s smile out of the corner of his eye, right before she was occupied by Nicky sitting on her lap and sighing lovingly. 

“You okay?” Kevin asked Allison, just between the two of them. She held him tighter and didn’t respond.

Soon enough, Renee was leaning on the two of them, joining their embrace, giving a small word of comfort. Eventually, Allison pushed away from Kevin and took Renee with her, the two grabbing wine and pretzels to sit with for the night. Kevin went to sit with Thea again, but was intercepted by Matt.

“Dude, you had us worried you were never coming back,” Matt admitted. 

Dan sat behind Kevin, punching his arm. “Yeah, dickwad,” she joked. “Missed you.”

“Missed you guys, too,” Kevin replied, still firmly in Matt’s arms. 

As Andrew and Neil took their seats on the beanbags and Aaron insisted on positioning himself firmly beneath Kevin’s arm in angry, ‘I love you’ kind of way, Kevin found his way back to Thea and settled back into the sofa. 

_ Home _ , he thought once more, letting the night roll out ahead of them.

 

×

 

(No one had to know that there was ransom to be paid, or that the night would end in a breath of relief — the last for a long, long time. Kevin knew, as he tended to know, that something bad would happen when the sun rose again. For that night, though, he let it be a silent statue in the back of his mind. If he had to die after a night like this — well, it surely wouldn’t be so bad.)

  
  


×

  
  


_ "To the dark womb of the sacred earth the sower entrusts the seeds, hoping that they will sprout forth into a blessing in accordance with heaven's counsel. Grieving, we shelter even more precious seed in the earth's womb and trust it shall blossom from the coffins to find a better fate.” _


	7. i carry your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eric whitacre is TOO GOOD to leave out of anything i create. i beg of u to listen to his arrangement of 'i carry your heart' as u read this, it will transform the words just that little bit

The minute he registered he was in hospital those months ago, Kevin knew he was going to die before Christmas. 

Even with Andrew looming over him, foreboding and broken, Kevin only thought about what Ichirou would do to him. It was not common for liabilities to survive in the eyes of the Moriyamas. Even Riko had died from his lack of use, Tetsuji following not long after. It took a great deal of Kevin’s brain to quieten that anxiety, often without any reprieve.

Now, though, with Ichirou standing in front of him and a gun pointed to his head, Kevin felt nothing. He smiled.

For all of the wasted recovery and hard-won battles he wouldn’t see, Kevin knew he had done all he could. If he had to die, he knew he loved as fiercely as he could. He saw what family he still had left. There would be some part of him left on that team, in memoriam of a friend. The guilt of leaving them could eat him alive if he let it, but it wasn’t possible. In that room — Wymack’s office, no less — Kevin let go of his friends and family. He let them keep whatever part of Kevin Day they still wanted, and sat before Ichirou as the boy who’d run away from the Ravens all those years ago.

Perhaps he wasn’t as noble as Neil, leaving everyone behind to face his final moments. Thea still resided in Kevin’s heart, her soft face and and dark, imploring eyes. Memories of her kept the small smile on his face. The barrel of the gun was forgotten.

“You know why you are here,” Ichirou told him. Ichirou had always been reasonable, borderlining on merciful, but Kevin saw nothing of a forgiving man in him anymore. “It is...upsetting, to see such talent wasted.”

“All due respect, my Lord,” Kevin noted evenly, “but I don’t see you as the type to be upset.”

Surprisingly, Ichirou smiled. “Riko’s passing has made a brave man of you.”

Kevin considered this. It was only fair to tell the truth. He’d die with the words burning in his throat otherwise. “It wasn’t Riko’s passing, my Lord. It was my family.”

It was his dying right to be cheesy. It was deserved. 

Ichirou’s smile did not falter. This concerned Kevin minutely. “You will be missed, then,” Ichirou noted.

This was it. Kevin had one last piece to play. An encore of his bravery. “By many, I assume. How much trouble is it going to be, cleaning up a murder?” Kevin questioned. Ichirou faltered for only a moment. “I suppose you could play the suicide card again. That would almost be heartwarming; adopted brother, unable to live without each other...except, I’ve been out of your control for quite some time, now. There are a few people willing to speak against failing mental health. Unfortunately for you, my Lord, I’m in the middle of an upswing. Everything was getting better. Why, pray tell, would I kill myself  _ now? _ ”

Ichirou wasn’t smiling anymore. A lack of control was always something the  Moriyamas failed to account for. In his spiel, Kevin could either save himself or get himself killed. There were no options left.

“You’re taunting me,” Ichirou snarled.

Kevin grinned again, innocent and sweet. “Aren’t I always?” 

“You have debts to pay to me.”

“For what? I’m already holding my silence about the Nest. Not that it matters anymore, of course. I was already a liability when I ran, why would you want to keep me on a leash like that? For when I make Court? It isn’t going to happen anymore. So, you could kill me and contest my will to get your money, but that wouldn’t work because you already have these misconduct charges stacked against you. Clearly, if I had cut you out of my will, there would be a reason. Neil can attest for the abuse I went through. Thea can show you the pictures of my scars. Even Riko couldn’t help himself, sometimes — I have polaroids of some nights at the Nest. Where were you, when all of this happened? Absent? Clearly, then, you weren’t important enough to be in my will in the first place.

“So, you could kill me. You’ll get caught. You’ll pay off the cops, probably, and end up with no money from me. What are you going to do? Tax someone else? That’s a few too many loose ends, even for you.”

Sitting back in his seat, Ichirou tapped the desk. “What are you trying to achieve, Day?” 

“Can’t you tell a dead man a few secrets?”

The Lord didn’t respond. Much like Andrew, Moriyamas weren’t ones to sputter and stumble their way to the conclusion of a sentence. Ichirou was calculating. Kevin was waiting. 

In all his time, being alive and fighting to stay alive, Kevin had never truly wondered where his future was going to lead him. Exy, of course. The U.S. Court. He would play alongside his rivals and friends, alongside  _ Thea, _ and win gold at the Olympics. He would stand on the podium and look up to where his mother would be watching him from Heaven. They both would smile, even if it was only them to know. 

He would have married Thea. Maybe they wouldn’t fuss with a wedding, because Kevin couldn’t bare the idea of having so many people watching a ceremony of something so intimate, but they would find a compromise. They would move somewhere that wasn’t so hot in the Summer and have a child. They would be parents and watch their kid grow up to be loving and strong, just like the two of them. They would retire and live out quiet lives, reminiscing on a life well lived. 

The gun clicked and that future was gone. 

 

×

 

How does the world keep turning when you’re standing in one place, unmoving? How do you catch up to it?

Thea stared at the floor, glassy-eyed and shaking. She didn’t sob. She didn’t let the tears fall. There was no use.

People touched her shoulder and tried to ask her questions, but she couldn’t hear them. Her headphones were firmly set in place, playing Kevin’s music. The playlist he’d made her was the only comfort she had, now. It didn’t feel so warm anymore.

The hospital was frigid, with Foxes sitting in the waiting area, heads in hands and tears on cheeks. Thea sat alone and imagined Kevin there with her. It did her no good. 

Kevin Day had been shot in the midst of an arrest on Ichirou Moriyama. Wymack had made the call as was going to save his son, but didn’t get there in time to keep Kevin from the firing line. Not much information was going around as to where he was shot or what the damage was, but Thea knew that his collarbone was shattered and he lost a considerable amount of blood. As he was laying on the floor, barely conscious and brokenly complaining of breathing difficulties through gasps and tears,Thea had been beside him, applying pressure to the wound and begging Kevin to stay awake.

“I love you,” Kevin had told her as his eyes were falling shut. “I do. I do.”

It had been 2 hours. There were no updates on his condition.

The playlist rolled over into a new song. Thea fell into its familiarity and let the hospital sink away. She recalled nights of laying beside Kevin, having him explain what he saw in every song; whether they were static pictures or short films in his mind when he listened to them. They’d been tipsy on wine and kissing languidly between his excited spiels. He slurred through his embarrassment when he thought he was talking too much. Thea fell in love all over again on the memory of his blush.

A new song began. Thea hadn’t heard this one before.

_ Added 22 hours ago by Kevin Day. _

Thea very nearly sobbed. She knew this text. 

Where Kevin was a geek for classical music, Thea was a nerd for literature and poetry. Some of the greatest movements were documented in prose, but they were given retrospective meaning in poetry. While E. E. Cummings was hardly setting the world on fire with his revelations and advocations, Thea had quietly admitted that his love poems were her favourite.

“ _ They aren’t fanciful, y’know? _ ” She’d explained to Kevin, playing with his hair as he leaned on her chest. “ _ He says exactly what he’s feeling in plain English. Anyone can understand it.  _ That’s _ what makes them so great. You don’t need to dissect it. It’s as simple as “ _ I carry your heart with me...I am never without it. _ ” There’s power in those words. Simplicity is beautiful. _ ”

The choir sang those words into her ears and Thea looked up. The window showed a typical 6am, Sunday morning. Sunrising and unperturbed. The gliding notes of voices relaying Kevin’s message to Thea sent her tears over the edge. They ran down her face and fell to her hands. Her empty hands. She felt like a nail was being struck into a coffin.

Was this it?

Andrew sat beside her slowly and held her hand, shaking just as much as Thea was. They shared earbuds and cried quietly, not acknowledging the other’s sign of vulnerability. 

 

×

 

The minute he registered he was in hospital, Kevin knew it was over. 

The nurses greeted him kindly and gave him motherly smiles, fussing over his blankets and trying to convince him to drink something. Kevin didn’t really want to move. He didn’t want to mess anything up.

Almost obsessively, he recounted the events of the night before.  _ I was with Ichirou. We talked. I was shot.  _ Rinse and repeat.

Kevin fell asleep to that tune. There were no dreams, no sounds in his head. All he did was process what had happened, unable to believe he was finally safe from Ichirou and that debt. 

By the time he was waking up, Kevin could hear the door letting someone into his room. For the first time in a long time, Kevin's mind was quiet and at peace. The music had stopped and the anxiety was gone. As if the person sitting next to him could read Kevin’s mind, they sighed and chuckled in relief.

“You fucking miracle,” Wymack’s familiar voice cracked out, his bulky hand settling over Kevin’s as a weight to keep them grounded. It was soft, but warm enough to wake Kevin up.

“Dad?” He croaked, not recognising his own voice. 

When Kevin’s eyes opened, it was Wymack alone. His kind, tired eyes were glassy and red rimmed, an exhausted smile lighting them from beneath. Kevin sobbed. It was over.  _ He was safe. _

“ _ Dad, _ ” Kevin cried, holding Wymack’s hand. Wymack leaned lightly on Kevin’s good shoulder and silently wept where Kevin almost couldn’t see. They held on tight. They had never had a moment so painfully familial. Their hearts were aching for it, finally feeling like they were in the right place; with each other. Kevin was bawling in relief. His heart had never felt so calm.

Wymack sat up for a moment and wiped his eyes, then ran a hand through Kevin’s hair and told his son he loved him. In their lives, as broken as they may have been, the two of them had never felt more whole. Reunited after decades of separation, a father and son at last. A second chance at a family. 

“Thea’s on her way,” Wymack told Kevin. “She’s beyond upset. What did I tell you about dealing with this shit on your own?”

Kevin carried on weeping. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

In fact, Kevin had actively tried to  _ not  _ deal with it on his own. He only struggled because he didn’t know what asking for help  _ looked  _ like. Ichirou had sent for him unexpectedly, so Kevin left a shorthand, barely legible note stuck to Thea’s forehead as he left. It told her where he was, who he was with, and that he loved her. Apparently it had worked: Wymack had interrupted what was about to be Kevin’s execution. A well-timed tackle to the assailant managed to redirect the bullet to somewhere less detrimental. 

Only now, he still had a fucked shoulder. Under the drugs and buzz of anxiety, it was hardly noticeable, but it spelt the complete and abrupt end to Kevin Day’s career in Exy. He had to be happy, though — he could have been dead.

Thinking about this, Kevin sulked. Wymack squeezed his hand again and let him cry. After all, it had been a big day. Kevin deserved a cry.

 

×

 

Wymack led Thea down the halls of the hospital in a spiral of deja vu. If Thea could feel anything, she wouldn’t be able to bet on whether it was excitement, anxiety, or deep-set dread. 

Seeing Kevin, though — the same way she did several weeks beforehand — she felt only relief as she walked to him alone. 

“Stop doing this,” she cried, barely getting to his bed before he was moving to hold her. She held most of her own weight, afraid to harm his shoulder, and revelled in being able to feel him again. Kevin was warm, smelling clinical and homebound at once.

_ Safe _ .

Thea pulled herself up and laid down beside him on his pillow, cuddled up to his good shoulder. Neither of them spoke. For the first time in a while, they just breathed. Thea let the air moving around them, listening to Kevin’s heartbeat. With every thump, she felt at peace, knowing he was still there with her.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin whispered. “I wasn’t able to tell you soon about when Ichirou would show up.”

“You-” Thea paused to giggle, remembering how she was woken up by having a post-it note stuck to her forehead. “You did your best.”

“Did you see what I added to your playlist?” He asked quietly, stroking his fingertips over the back of Thea’s hand. 

Overwhelmed by emotions, love and all sorts, Thea hiccupped through some stubborn tears and placed a kiss on Kevin’s forehead. “ _ I fear no fate, _ ” she whispered, “ _ for you are my fate, my sweet. _ ”

Kevin smiled, still dopey and drugged up. 

They both sighed, feeling the quiet of the world surround them. At once, the same thought ran through their minds;

_ The worst of it is over. _


	8. In The Hall of the Mountain King (Reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls let me know what you're thinking and if i'm doing all right!!

Kevin’s relapses were violent and unpredictable after he was let out of hospital. For weeks, he was okay. He nursed his shoulder and did his best to recover smoothly, eating 2 meals a day, then 3, then more, before it all crashed around him. Nothing had to explicitly happen to set it off. One minute he would be okay, the next he would be desperately trying to purge all of the progress he’d made. His attempts to induce vomiting never quite worked. They resulted in breakdowns, sometimes harmful, and days of near starvation.

Nevertheless, he would try again to get better. Like a cycle, he would relapse and recover, rinse and repeat, until it got easier to pick himself back up again. He did this, sometimes, without anyone noticing. If there was anything Kevin Day was good at, it was practicing until he was perfect.

His shoulder healed, but he wasn’t able to play again. This wasn’t news to anyone but it was a painful reality that knocked the wind out of Kevin. He’d never imagined a life, a future without Exy. Had it not been for his injury, he would have been cleared to play within the next year and a half. His career was gone, shattered in the fractures of his bones. The climb back from rock bottom after that was a blur of motionless days and late, dreamless nights. Kevin barely existed while he processed the verdict.

He leaned on Wymack heavily to get him through. Even though they had been thrown into a family too suddenly to get the beginning right, the support Wymack gave his son was unlike anything Kevin had ever had. They learnt to be close, in trust and proximity. They learnt to be vulnerable. Wymack didn’t let Kevin fall without a fight. It was more than Kevin had asked for (and exactly what he needed).

Thea held Kevin’s hand through every hard meeting and doctor’s appointment. She stuck by him through his worst days. She never doubted that he would get better and she didn’t let him believe that his efforts were useless. Kevin was thankful that his best friend was there to help him; Thea was thankful that her best friend was going to live. 

The team was shaken by Kevin’s departure from the Foxes, and they were utterly crushed when it dawned on them that, in a way, the Moriyama’s had won. Riko had crushed Kevin’s hand to stop him from becoming the best. Ichirou had shot Kevin’s shoulder in an attempt to kill him. Kevin might have lived, but he lost everything to do so. Even Andrew spent a quiet night alone on the roof, mourning for Kevin and cursing the universe for dealing an innocent person such a great deal of bullshit.

In all of the misery that surrounded this ordeal, the most important detail was how Kevin didn’t give up on himself. He was always a stubborn bastard, but he never let himself believe that he would be a broken product of his trauma. Physical therapy was excruciating and terrifying, walking on a tightrope above a more damning, permanent injury, and on some days he felt like he would never be right again. 

Kevin Day was not a quitter, though. He was a survivor in the making.

 

-

 

The Foxes were up against the Trojans when they accepted being kicked from the Championships. It had been months since Kevin left the line-up and they were still struggling to account for the missing piece of their team. Kevin still showed up to every game and gave his ever helpful criticisms, but the team needed him on the court. The was no substitute for that.

Andrew hadn’t felt passionately about Exy in a long time. He hadn’t felt this agitated or emotional about the state of his team since they beat the Ravens at Nationals. Yet there he stood, in his goalbox, yelling to the backliners to step up their game and co-operate. He was shaking with how much he cared. Neil looked about ready to either sob or swoon. 

By the last quarter, the score was 5-3, Trojans favour. Obviously. The Foxes couldn’t pull off a win like this with their team spirit still in tatters. Dan looked all out of hope and the replacement striker was just about wetting himself with the pressure of being in Kevin Day’s place.

Andrew never used to pay attention to the flow of the game. If a ball came near him, he caught it. If it was on the other side of the court, he would contemplate sitting down and taking a rest.

He was too wired to ignore how the game stopped near the beginning of the last quarter. Replacement striker was being sent off.

_ What the hell? _

The crowd was confused. The team was giving up. Andrew was waiting for the sick punchline of a forfeit.

But Kevin fucking Day walked onto the court, gear and all, and the stadium lost it’s  _ shit _ .

“You fucking miracle,” Andrew muttered, tears of pride stinging his eyes.

The Foxes won 7-6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted Kevin to get better and then i was like 'wait im the author'. as always, do let me know if you think I've missed the mark and have written something that romanticizes/glorifies eating disorders or mental illnesses, just bc im making a super conscious effort to make sure this story is respectful, while also giving Kevin an arc of redemption and healing. chime off as you please!!


	9. Encore - Swan Song

Two years passed. Kevin remained a survivor, a miracle, and a legend. He was known no longer as Kayleigh Day’s son. His title was no longer just _ the Queen _ . He was the heart, soul and passion of Exy. The deadliest piece on the board once more.

There were NCAA Banquets for the Foxes to attend, awards ceremonies and celebrations of excellence within the sport. Nothing compared to the end of season Ball right at the end of Kevin’s final year with the Foxes. 

Thea was there. That didn’t often happen.

“I thought dramatic appearances were  _ my _ thing,” Kevin quipped, taking Thea in his arms. 

“This is hardly dramatic,” Thea defended lightly. 

“In that dress, everything you do is dramatic.”

Thea leaned forward and rested on Kevin’s chest, already wishing they could be alone. She was finding that she wanted that more and more — it was a terrifying thing. Kevin was quickly becoming an extension on her solitude. Part of Thea felt like it was dangerous to love someone that much. The other part of Thea didn’t care all that much. She was happy. So, so happy.

Kevin was different, now.  _ Healthier.  _ He was by no means fully recovered, restricted to playing non-consecutive quarters of games, but he no longer looked so gaunt. The muscles on his arms had begun to amass, albeit at different rates, but they weren’t too different. When Thea hugged him, as she often tried to, she was reminded of how far he’d come from his first hospital visit. 

Most of all, Kevin was  _ happier _ . The scar of almost losing his place in his career — in his  _ life _ — made him appreciate the moments he had on the court more. The team saw him smiling, play-fighting with Aaron, comforting Neil after rough losses. Andrew was more often than not found by Kevin’s side, pressed up against his arm. Both Kevin and Matt fell into a deep adoration for each other, rivalled only by Kevin and Allison’s rivalry-come-friendship. Renee was more than happy to discuss history and her future with the Peace Corps over cups of tea and the occasional biscuit. Most importantly, Kevin and Dan grew close before she left, forming a makeshift family with Wymack and Abby. The overwhelming result was the Kevin felt like he was finally in the right place. 

For almost the whole night, Thea and Kevin spoke to coaches, scouts, ambassadors, everyone. The teams mostly mingled among themselves, a bit like kids at a family reunion, but by the time the night was closing up, Thea caught Kevin standing off to the side on his own, a glass of water in his hand. 

“Hey,” she beckoned, walking towards him. “You look all sulky.”

Kevin smiled, but there was still something stopping him from letting go completely. “Do you wanna dance?” He asked.

Dancing was one of the formalities of a function like this, though neither Thea or Kevin had ever partaken in it. Ballroom dancing wasn’t their strong-suit. 

Still, though, this was the last time either of them would likely be at one of these events. The floor was full of tipsy couples, intertwined and swaying out of rhythm to the music, so it wasn’t like they would stand out. Tentatively, Thea held out her hand.  _ Yes. _

They walked hesitantly to the floor and held each other in a way that might have been correct, as a new song began. Almost immediately, Thea knew it.

“You planned this,” she murmured, as the first notes of  _ The Swan _ began to play. Kevin smiled. “Why did you plan this?”

Biting his lip, Kevin leaned down so he was speaking only to Thea. “In the program of music that this is from, this is the last song,” he explained. “I think it’s because there was this myth that at the end of a swan’s life, as they were dying, they’d sing this beautiful song in their last breath. It’s not true, because swans physically can’t do that, but it’s a nice thought.

“People refer to a ‘Swan Song’ as being the last thing you do in your life, y’know? And I feel like this chapter of my life is ending tonight. So...this is my Swan Song.”

Thea couldn’t help smiling. “You’re such a sappy romantic.”

“Whatever,” Kevin scoffed, pulling her closer. “You love it.”

Thea thought about the rest of the night ahead of them, about the hotel room she booked and the ring waiting in her purse. 

“I do,” she whispered. It sounded pretty good to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact when i finished this chapter i cried. this story has been such a stabilizer in my life since moving to university, weirdly enough. it was just there for me to fall into if i felt like i wasnt coping, or even when i wasnt eating well (or at all). i've always been fascinated by kevin's character and deeply disappointed by the way he's treated in the books. i know this story is out of character and might have a glossy shiny ending that i was originally so determined to avoid, but fuck it. kevin (and i) deserve a happy fucking ending. i hope i did this justice and i hope you've enjoyed this journey as well. as always, let me know of any issues you have with my writing and leave a comment if you feel so inclined. love you guys.

**Author's Note:**

> an experiment to see if A) jess can write about something that isn't magic, and B) if publishing this will inspire me to finish the goddamn thing. we'll see.
> 
> pls leave a comment if you're liking what i'm doing and ESPECIALLY leave a comment if you don't. let me know if there's anywhere i can improve x
> 
> hit me up on tumblr if you feel jazzy: rosebudbasilton.tumblr.com


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